The Age of Inheritance
by You'reABirdOfTheSummer
Summary: Lyra Black always knew that her family held dark secrets, when she turns 18 and Azkaban experiences its first breakout she learns just how dark they can be. Inheritance from an unlikely source grants her the prospect of saving herself from her genes. AU.
1. Chapter 1

**(A/N Hello! Bit of extra on this story, it will have a healthy dose of secrets, lies, being mean to first years, similarities to PoA, a little bit of swearing, bit of incest humour (I'd like to remind everyone that this is Black story after all ;) how could there not bit) but no actual incest, inheritance from unlikely sources and Hufflepuff bashing for a few chapters, but if you happen to be Hufflepuff at heart I apologize and assure you this becomes pro-Hufflepuff toward the end) this story isn't in chronological order and therefore may be confusing, but I hope that after 59 MS word pages of first draft it will all become clear and you will forgive me for confusing you all the way to the end. I plan to write a sequel to this and not all ends will be tied up at the end for that reason. You've been warned! Thanks very much for giving it a look and I'm sorry for any mistakes -unbetaed.) **

**Chapter One**

**1****st****of September 1997**

Strolling through the castle at night was one of those privileges only given to the Head Boy and Girl, but something every student that had ever passed under the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts School had dreamed of.

Every student who ever sat down for dinner in the Great Hall had once wished that they could be the one who knew the castle best, who knew every step, every alcove, every gargoyle-the ancient secrets hidden in the walls, the rumours of secret rooms, hidden passageways and treasure beyond imagination. All the students at Hogwarts marvelled at the beauty and intricacy of the castle and named it as there one, true home. Every student thought that somehow, they belonged in the castle. That Hogwarts was the missing piece in their lives and that it would mourn the day they left as if they were any different from any other student leaving its prestigious halls. The fact of the matter of course was that everyone felt the same, distinct pull towards Hogwarts, it had been the home of thousands of witches and wizards and most of them didn't know the castle half as well as they thought they did.

Some of course knew the castle as well as any, Filch, who popped up from everywhere at the first sign of mess making, the legendary Marauders and their nifty map, the Weasley twins and Harry Potter, both avid readers of said map had also seen more than their fair share of the castle- and they had all crept through the castle whilst the other students were in bed.

But there were more secrets to discover within the walls of Hogwarts which just sneaking around could never show you.

Lyra would know, she had coveted the right to wander through the winding halls since her first night at Hogwarts- and had done it anyway since her second.

It was the first night of her seventh year, she had already been shown around her new dorm, looked distastefully at the new Head Boy, Harry Potter, poked fun at the dreary Hufflepuffs and scared most of her new little snakes silly.

She caught a glimpse of herself in a cracked mirror which hung on the wall, the lantern in her hand illuminating her hauntingly beautiful face, her dark, intelligent, heavy lidded eyes and her wild raven curls which fell to the waist band of her school skirt. Aunt Cissy always commented on how much she looked like Aunt Andromeda.

Lyra had grown up in Malfoy Manor, with Draco, her fellow Slytherin Prefect and Harry Potter, Gryffindor Head Boy. Of course, Aunt Narcissa was not her real Aunt actually her second cousin, but for all intents and purposes she was Lyra's mother. Her own, she knew nothing about except that she was a powerful, pureblooded witch and that she had died shortly after she was born and her father was Sirius Black, who had died when she was just three on an auror mission in wintery Russia.

His cousin, Narcissa had taken in the two of them, her and Harry, the poor little orphans who Sirius left behind.

Lyra trusted Narcissa explicitly, but sometimes there was a niggle of doubt in her mind that what she had been told about her parentage was not actually the truth.

**1****st**** of September 1990**

"_Ah… Another Black I see. What an interesting heritage, even if it's not what you think… Cunning, intelligent and a thirst to prove yourself, yes…. SLYTHERIN." _

**23****rd**** of December 1989**

_Great Aunt Druella looked at her though narrowed eyes, she was a very odd woman. Very dark, very tactile. The ghosts of her good looks still present on her face, withering in her old age. She extended a hand, dripping with silver and emeralds, a necklace clutched in her fingers toward a young Lyra, just ten years old._

"_Only a true Black can wear this locket little Lyra," she said, raising an eyebrow at her. "Go on, put it on." Lyra nodded and held her head high as she fitted the clasp with slightly shaking hands. The heavy plain silver locket dropped onto the front of her dress, resting heavily on her heart, the metal surprisingly warm. It gave the young girl a most odd, yet pleasant feeling of completeness. _

_Lyra smiled at Aunt Druella. _

"_Black by blood, Black by nature," the old woman said, a smirk forming at her lips. "Keep it, it's yours now. Wear it always." _

"_Of course," Lyra said, grinning more at the pride she could see in her Aunt's eyes. She looked down at it and went to open the clasp, but it was stuck. She pulled harder, but it was as though there wasn't even a seam to come apart. _

"_But I can't open it?" she said, perplexed. _

"_When you turn eighteen you will open it and be pleased by what is inside," she replied cryptically. "So much knowledge and power will befall you on that day. "Lyra Elladora Bellatrix Black…" she said, rolling the syllables over her tongue. "Let me tell you a story about your namesake… Elladora."_

_Later that day, whilst the adults were taking high tea Lyra and Draco had taken it upon themselves to explore the house and after inspecting, but definitely not touching, they knew better than that, many dark artefacts filled Draco's grandmother's house, they found, hung on the wall of a study the Black family tree. _

_The tapestry was an emerald green, with shining bronze lettering. _

"_I'm not on here," Draco sulked, pointing at the names of his mother and father. _

"_That's because you don't make it onto the family tree until you turn seventeen," Lyra pointed out in a bossy tone. "Aunt Druella told me it was a new rule that was enforced in the hope that they would figure out whether or not they were true Blacks before being put on the tapestry. Like my father, who was blasted off and then they couldn't put him back on again when the family reconciled, if they had just never bothered to put him on after he ran away, they could have added him on after."_

"_She lied to you. You can't just 'add him on' even if he hadn't been blasted off, powerful ancient magic updates the tree. All Blacks go on as soon as they turn seventeen. It's because infant mortality rates were high when it was made, therefore they cluttered up the tree with what grandmamma calls 'the weak'," Draco said haughtily, crossing his arms and looking down his nose at her. _

"_Where did you learn big words like that Draco?" the dark haired child demanded, crossing her arms and stamping her foot in irritation that he knew more than her. He just sent a smug and arrogant smirk her way. _

"_Look," she said huffily, still annoyed at Draco but pointing to Orion and Walburga's names on the tree. "Those are my grandparents... they were second cousins. Is that allowed?" _

"_Yes," Draco said with a nod. "Grandmother said that seconds are allowed, they keep the blood pure. First cousins aren't because they make children with extra toes. We could married Lyra, we're second cousins too." _

"_No," Lyra said, holding up her chin even higher. "We are third cousins, as if I would ever marry anyone who didn't know the difference between second and third." _

"_I do know!" Draco replied indignantly, but was cut off from replying further by the call of their names from downstairs. Lyra just stuck her tongue out at the blonde before turning and running out of the room, towards the sound and Draco raced after her- the rest of the tapestry untouched and unread_

**21****st**** of September 1993**

_Many years later, Lyra aged thirteen would sit in the Slytherin common room, brooding and twiddling the necklace between her fingers and thinking about that day. _

_If her father had been blasted off the tree that did not make her a proper Black… Andromeda's daughter could not command the elves or wear the jewellery because her mother had been blasted off the tree- despite the fact the family had reconciled after the war and were now on strained, but relatively good terms. _

_She pondered just how she was allowed to wear the necklace that was currently around her throat when her father had been blasted off. But soon shook off the ponderings and rose from her chair, she was just being silly after all and it was about time she snuck into the restricted section again. _

**1****st**** of September 1997**

Those worries and doubts had always been there, lying dormant in the far reaches of her busy mind but usually that is where they stayed because Lyra knew that Blacks only looked after their own and if she was not a Black, then she would not be so well looked after.

Silently she slipped through the heavy door of the trophy room, after years of sneaking about the castle at night she had learnt how to make sure her heels did not click on the stone floors. It was better to use muggle ways to sneak around, most of the time teachers used magic-detection spells to locate rule breakers. Holding the lantern high she wandered about the room, looking at the trophies, she wondered whether this year would be her own chance to have her name engraved in the smooth silver of a cup and be immortalized up here, for thousands of years of Hogwarts students to look upon.

Her name should have already been carved somewhere, it was what she had come to see and she spotted it, a long, ever extending list of Head Girls, mounted upon the wall. She crossed the room and looked up and sure enough, her name _Lyra Black 1998 _was right there at the bottom, with a small smile gracing her features she looked up the list, checking for names she recognized.  
><em>Katie Bell 1997<em> was just above her own name, she kept on reading until she found a cluster of names which intrigued her.

_Bellatrix Black 1973  
>Andromeda Black 1974<br>Lily Evans 1975  
>Marlene McKinnon 1976<br>Narcissa Black 1977_

She blinked in surprise at this list of names. Who was Bellatrix Black? Close enough to Narcissa and Andromeda that must be aware of her existence. There was a very slim chance that Bellatrix was an unrelated witch with the surname Black, unless she was Muggleborn. Her own name was flung to the forefront of her mind.

_Lyra Elladora Bellatrix Black_

There was no way that was a coincidence. Blacks were always named after their ancestors in some way, Elladora was a prime example, but no one had ever told her the origin of Bellatrix. Who was she and why hadn't any of her family ever mentioned her?

Cogs were whirring inside of Lyra's head. Narcissa and Andromeda were close in age and almost certainly related to Bellatrix Black, some distant cousin perhaps? A lump in her throat formed when she realized that there was a high chance of her being even closer related to her Aunt Cissy and Aunt Andy. Sisters couldn't be ruled out.

There was only one thing for sure; that she was important enough to Lyra for her to be named after.

It could just be coincidental, she could have died, it could be a difficult and traumatic thing for her family to talk about.

But Lyra knew her family and knew it was not the case.

Bellatrix Black had been kept a secret from her and she wanted to know why.

She pondered for a moment, how could she find out more about Bellatrix? There was only one immediate answer- the filing cabinets in the adjoining room. All prefects, past and present had their school records stored in there.

She paused, opening the door with the toe of her shoe and slipping though the crack. She set the lantern down on the cabinet labelled A-D and started to rifle through the second of four drawers.

Most of the B drawer was taken up Blacks, some from centuries and centuries ago, but she did not have time to appreciate her heritage. Finally she found the one she was looking for, Bellatrix Black with shaking fingers she opened the file and read the small amount of information on the card.

_Name: Bellatrix Druella Cassiopeia Black  
>Born: 9<em>_th__ of November, 1956  
>House: Slytherin<br>Head of House: Professor H. Slughorn  
>Titles: Beater, Prefect, Head Girl<br>NEWT Examinations:  
>Transfiguration: O<br>Defence Against the Dark Art: E  
>Potions: O<br>Charms: E  
>Herbology: O<br>Astronomy: O  
>Ancient Runes: E<br>Care of Magical Creatures: E  
><em>

Lyra had to supress a gasp of shock, if she were to view her own Prefect card she would see most of the same information. They both had two ancestral middle names, star related first names, both in Slytherin, same house, same Quidditch position; she even took all the same NEWTs that Lyra herself was taking. The only differences were their birthdays, head of house and the fact that Lyra did not have her grades for her NEWTs yet.

She ran her fingers through her unruly curls and slid the file back into the filing cabinet. She had to find out more about who this woman was, what had happened to her… but how?

Her musings were interrupted by the echoing sound of hasty footsteps in the armoury which abutted the trophy room- those were hurried, frightened student footsteps. Quickly Lyra blew out her lantern and crept toward the sound, eyes narrowed and footsteps light and noiseless.

Sure enough, there in the armoury was a student, dressed in Gryffindor coloured pyjamas and trying to force their way through a locked door. A cruel smirk spread across Lyra's face and she crept toward the child who in his frantic struggle to open the door did not notice who was creeping up behind him.

"Student out of bed?" Lyra asked the boy in a low, slow voice as she pressed the tip of her wand to his neck. The Gryffindor gave a strangled yell and spun round, so that the wand was now on his throat, eyes wide with fear.

"Miss Black," he stuttered bowing his head and trying not to tremble. All the lower school called her Miss Black, as if she were a professor; they were far too terrified of her to risk using her first name.

"Name," Lyra prompted, jabbing her wand into the tender flesh of his throat and holding the pressure through her integration.

"Dennis, Dennis Creevey," the boy stammered, painfully aware of the weapon cutting into his air supply.

"Now do tell me, Dennis Creevey, what gives you the right to walk the castle at night?" her voice was blasé as if she were enquiring about the weather, but Dennis Creevey knew enough about the Head Girl to not be fooled by her seeming indifference.

"I don't have the right Miss Black, I'm sorry," he said quickly, looking with wide, frightened eyes at the wand at his throat.

"You're forgiven dear Dennis," she replied in a dark tone, pushing her hair over her shoulder.

"Th-Thank you Miss Bla-"

"On one condition," she interrupted, Dennis fell silent. "Very soon I am going to need a Gryffindor, like yourself to run a little errand for me. Would you agree to do a little favour for me in order to earn my favour?"

"Of- of course Miss Black," Dennis replied.

"Excellent," she said, her feral smile broadening. "In return for you promising to do that favour for me and keeping your mouth shut about seeing me here tonight I will let you go… unscathed."

"Thank you Miss Black," Dennis said quickly as the tip of Lyra's wand was removed from his jugular.

"Scurry back to Gryffindor tower this instant dear Dennis," Lyra said in a sing song voice. "But remember to tell none of your little lions which witch caught you wandering around in the dark, lest a …disturbing accident happen."

"Of course Miss Black, thank you, goodnight" he said, bowing his head again.

Lyra stood, twiddling her wand in her fingers and grinning as the anxious footfalls of Dennis Creevey got fainter and fainter. Oh how she enjoyed eliciting terror into the hearts of young students. It was with the same smile that she lit her lantern and continued on her way back to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**2nd of September 1997**

Breakfast on September the second was missed by many students every year, students who had had a lie in everyday all summer and who were not accustomed to getting up in time for breakfast.

In every house many students missed breakfast, except for one.

"Get up," Lyra barked, banging on the door to the seventh year boys' dormitory just like she had for every other dorm in the Slytherin quarters. "I will not have my house being late for the first meal of the year. Get. Up. Now." She heard groaning from inside and smirked with satisfaction.

The door swung open and a very dishevelled looking Draco Malfoy opened the door, his usually perfectly styled, sleek blonde hair sticking up out of his head and his eyes half closed.

"What the fuck have we done now?" he asked, running a hand over his sleepy face.

"Put some bloody clothes on Malfoy, what if I was of a nervous disposition," Lyra instructed, commenting on his lack of shirt.

"Don't act like you're not impressed Black," he replied cockily, leaning on the doorframe nonchalantly, Lyra's mouth upturned in a disgusted grimace.

"As much I'm sure Crabbe, Goyle and Zabini enjoy the view, I'm sorry to tell you that I for one, am not partial to it, try not to lose anymore hair over it though," Lyra said spitefully, Draco just smirked very used to her remarks by now.

"One of these days baby," he smirked, winking arrogantly. "Being a Malfoy, how does that sound?"

"About as desirable as being digested alive by a Flobberworm, which if any of you are late is exactly what you will experience," she said with a deadpan expression. "Now if you'll excuse me, I think Dumbledore's going to be showing me his abs before breakfast and I know which of you I would prefer to see shirtless."

"You're in denial, love," the blonde mocked reaching out to bat her ponytail with his hand so it swung from side to side.

"You disgust me," with that she flicked her wand and forced the door to slam shut, leaving a thoroughly amused Draco on the other side and three Slytherins who couldn't help but wonder how he got brave enough to talk to Lyra Black like that- they sure as hell wouldn't dare.

"Oi Black," came a shout from behind Lyra as she descended into the Entrance Hall.

"Is that another polite and articulate greeting for Potter I hear," she scoffed loudly in reply, looking over the heads of the younger students to see Harry walking toward her. She saw it as more of a saunter, his shirt untucked, his red and gold tie loose and hair 'perfectly messy' as he himself like to describe it… achieved by constant ruffling of course. "What is it you want?"

Harry smiled as he approached her, their conflict at school amused him after spending all summer in her company- it was tradition for the old friends. Hatred at school- healthy sibling-like rivalry at home.

"I want to have a little chat about Quidditch," he said, gesturing for her to follow him out of the earshot of the other students.

"I'm sure you whingeing about how 'this year is going to be your year' and begging Slytherin to go easy on you, can wait," Lyra said, making to turn round.

"Hilarious," he replied. "Now come on, we have to talk." She gritted her teeth and glowered at him as he led her down a corridor where they would have more privacy.

"Our dorms," he started, talking about the new ones they got as Head Boy and Girl. To be honest Lyra was most disappointed by their new quarters, small, dark and dingy, yet Dumbledore seemed to think that it was a perk. "McGonagall told me that if I went through one the portraits in my new room I would be able to enter the common room and study that came with them. I can't and I reckon you have something to do with it."

"You only reckon? It's like you don't know me at all," she replied with false sweetness. Harry sighed.

"Fine, I don't want to use the common room anyway, I was just checking. Why do you insist I don't go in there?" he asked.

"Because my study is not big enough for all my projects, personal library and Quidditch tactics," the Slytherin captain told her Gryffindor counterpart. "And you're a nosy bugger."

"Guilty as charged," he admitted, his green eyes surveying her evenly through his round glasses. "What kind of projects?"

"Do you really wish to know?" Lyra asked raising her eyebrows at him. He stayed silent for a moment.

"No," he said eventually. "Dark Magic is not my forte."

"Good, because I wasn't going to tell you anyway," she replied with a smirk.

"I've got something else I wanted to talk to you about actually," Harry said, narrowing his eyes at her slightly.

"Don't keep me in suspense," she replied sarcastically.

"Why were you on the third floor last night?" he questioned.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she parried, crossing her arms and mentally cursing that tongue wagging little brat she'd run into.

"Don't play games with me, I know you were prowling the castle alone last night, why?" he asked.

"None of your business," she said haughtily, immediately dismissing all previous thoughts about causing harm to the younger Gryffindor. "How did you know?"

"I have my sources," he replied a strange look passing over his features.

"Harry James Potter," Lyra said in a low, dangerous voice advancing toward him. "Why do you look guilt-ridden?"

"I don't," he said defensively, trying to look confident in himself.

"No," she insisted. "You look guilty. Why?" Harry stayed silent, his green eyes locked with her dark ones. "I will find out," she said in barely more than a whisper. "Whatever is you're keeping from me, you seem awfully remorseful about it. I will find out what it is and mark my words when I do, you're not going to like it." Harry gulped audibly.

"I'm not afraid of you Lyra," his voice still brave and unwavering. "Everyone else might be, but I've known you too long. Your father is my godfather, I know you wouldn't harm me." She cocked her head to one side.

"You seem to put an awful lot of conviction into a bond only formed through a dead man," she said coldly.

"I trust you Lyra," he stated.

"You're a fool," she stated. "Now if you'll excuse me Snape's got me giving out the timetables."

**9****th**** of September 1997**

_Dear Headmaster,  
>I am writing to you, Professor Dumbledore to ask your permission for Lyra to leave the school on her 18<em>_th__ birthday, the 30__th__ of September. It is a tradition in the Black family for something extremely important to be passed onto her on this day and I know your late, dear friend Sirius would want this for her. Her birthday is of course a Saturday and I hope this would not cause too much trouble for you.  
>I wish that I could meet her on her 18<em>_th__ birthday, when she is to leave the castle but she must do it herself, alone. I'm sure I do not need to explain the necessity for Lyra to adhere to the most ancient and powerful magic of Black tradition.  
>Yours faithfully,<br>Narcissa Malfoy  
>P.S. I hope none of my three children have torn up the castle yet this term<em>

Narcissa sighed wearily and folded the piece of parchment in half. She really did wish she could go with Lyra, but she could not. It was not for her to know what she had been left in her vault. All Blacks got something different in theirs, but she was sure that since Lyra was the first Black to turn 18 since the death of Cygnus, Druella, Orion and Walburga that her vault would be the most … interesting -if that was the word.

Still, she had to go and look inside, Narcissa just hoped she would not find anything too incriminating in there.

Maybe it was time for a visit to her eldest sister… no. Definitely not.

**15****th**** of September 1997**

"Miss Black," Snape called from the front of his classroom. "A word." Lyra frowned and finished adding the final ingredient to her cauldron; it had to simmer for some time now. After taking a glance round at the rest of the class, who were all working in pairs she closed her textbook with a snap, hiding the contents from view and ascended to the desk at the front that Snape was working on.

"Is there a problem Professor Snape?" she asked coolly, she knew full well there was no problem. Her brewing skills were second to none and she had full confidence in her potion being perfect, though she would never tell her head of house she was quite sure she could give him a run for his money.

"No Miss Black, Professor Dumbledore has informed me that on the last of the month you are allowed to leave the school if you wish," he said, dark eyes boring into her own.

"To go to Hogsmeade?" she asked.

"The Headmaster used the words 'anywhere that takes your fancy'," he recited, looking thoroughly disinterested in the birthday plans of his head girl.

"Why?" Lyra questioned again.

"The Headmaster's mind works in mysterious ways Miss Black, I do not know his reasoning for this privilege. He just said that come the morning of the 30th you will have a hankering to go somewhere and that it was to be allowed," he replied. "You have your apparation licence if I remember?" Lyra confirmed that she did. "Excellent," Snape continued. "Then I not require to set up methods of alternative transportation for you. The Entrance Hall at seven o'clock, if you wish to leave."

"Thank you Professor Snape," Lyra said cordially. "I must get back to my potion lest it be ruined."

**18****th**** of September 1997**

Lyra took a deep breath and knocked on the caretakers door, she, like the rest of the student body, detested Filch and dreaded being his presence. But she had to see the detention records in his office it was the only idea she had come with to find out more about the mysterious woman.

"Who is it?" the caretaker demanded irately as he opened the door angrily. Lyra's face remained stony as she replied.

"Lyra Black."

"Ah… I see," the old man said, opening the door wider, his gnarled face softening slightly. He tolerated Lyra more than the other students, though whether it was because he, like many students were scared of her or because he admired her callous dishing out of punishments was up for debate.

"I was wondering if I could look through the detention records Mr Filch," she said, with forced politeness. He mumbled incoherently and pulled out his ring of keys searching through them until he found a large rusty key which he handed to her.

"You know where they are," he mumbled, before closing the door unceremoniously. Lyra rolled her eyes and walked to the door only a short way away from Filch's office. Clicking open the heavily warded door she stepped in, lighting the lamps on the walls in the windowless room. It was full of filing cabinets, Filch seemed to like them. It took her quite a while to find the right year's records. It seems Pringle, Filch's predecessor did not have the same deep rooted love of paperwork as he did.

"Let's see," she said under her breath as she found the Black files for the sixties and seventies and sat cross legged in the centre of the small room. "Bellatrix Black," she read. "Given one week's detention for using restricted section of library with forged note."

She pulled out the next slip.

"Bellatrix Black, given two week's detention for brewing potions in dormitory," she read, frowning slightly.

"Bellatrix Black, given two week's detention for hexing Sirius Black so that he fell into the lake, covered in boils. Black family charged for Giant Squid counselling," she read with interest. This Bellatrix had done that to her father? How strange, was it out of spite or just a prank?

"Bellatrix Black, given one week's detention for being caught out of bed at night. Possibly in the Forbidden Forest, suspicion not provable. Bellatrix Black, Lucius Malfoy, James Potter and Sirius Black, duelling in the corridors," she kept reading the woman's detention slips, none of them really incriminating her to be worse than a prankster.  
>However the last detention entry was in 1971, when she was a fifth year proving she had learnt how to cover up after her crime, perhaps?<br>"Bellatrix, Andromeda and Narcissa Black, one week's detention for the former, sneaking the latter two into the prefect's bathroom," Lyra frowned as she set the parchment down in her lap. How very strange.

So she definitely was well acquainted with Aunt Cissy and Aunt Andy.

But what had happened to her once she had left Hogwarts?

For this Lyra did not have an answer and to get an answer, she needed a plan. But she didn't have one of those either.

**20****th**** of September 1997**

Serverus Snape detested children which is why for the most part he detested his students. His advanced, NEWT potions class was the exception to this rule.

With just two Gryffindors, three Ravenclaws and four Slytherins it was a lot better than the usual bunch of dunderheads. Even if he could do without Potter and Granger in his classroom, there was nothing he could do about it, after one slightly malicious comment in Potter's very first potions class Snape had received a furious howler from Narcissa Malfoy, who seemed to be quite over-protective of the boy.

Over the years which followed, Snape learnt to overlook the similarities Harry and James had and just looked for those which resembled Lily instead. One of which it seemed, was an aptitude for potion brewing –without constant reminders of what a failure he was, he was actually quite skilled and Snape got out of the habit of detesting him.

Snape surveyed his class as they worked on producing a draught of living death one lesson in September and he wondered about his students.

He often wondered things like, how had that Patil twin managed to go above and beyond all expectations of her and surpass her older sister in every pursuit and how Zabini felt knowing his mother murdered his father and every one of her husbands before and after.

Today's musings was how Lyra Black could be so similar to a certain family member at the same age. He could quite easily see her going down the same route as her infamous relative… Snape and Bellatrix had been quite chummy in their Death Eater days, despite their natural rivalry. Before she went to Azkaban she was a charming and intelligent witch, which he could see in the teenager in front of him. Snape had respected Madame Lestrange since their school days, she had been head girl when he was but a fifth year prefect and she had proved herself time and time again to be quite the talented and formidable opponent. If she had not been so sadistic and cruel she may well have risen to great heights in the ministry or in magical research. Yes, Snape pondered she could have been in the history books had it not been for being _too_ devoted to the Dark Lord, even to the point of obsession.

A pity, he thought.

With that he continued to watch Lyra, interested to see how much she would turn out to be like his old colleague, never interfering of course. If the dark arts tempted Lyra Black it was none of his concern.

**24****th**** of September 1997**

"More tea Andromeda?" Narcissa asked her older sister as they sat in a small, private drawing room in Malfoy manor. The brunette smiled and thanked her as she poured tea from the pretty china tea pot.

"You seem troubled Cissy," the witch remarked as she lifted her cup and saucer to her lips and blew on the clear amber liquid. "What on earth is the matter?" The blonde let out a long suffering sigh but paused as she poured her own cup of tea.

"I am anxious about Lyra," she admitted finally.

"Do tell," she instructed before taking a long sip.

"I am worried for her Andy," Narcissa exhaled. "She has so many likenesses to our sister and it worries me greatly-what with her eighteenth birthday coming up."

"You are worried about what she will find in her inheritance vault?" she queried.

"Indeed, us Blacks do have some… questionable artefacts and reading material which in the wrong hands…" Narcissa trailed off, looking out of the window.

"I'm sure you needn't worry Cissy," Andromeda said, placing a slim, pale hand on top of hers in reassurance.

"But I do," she sighed.

"Is the Black vault the only one she is entitled to?" Andromeda asked curiously, an idea forming in her mind. Narcissa's smooth forehead crumpled as she heard this.

"I can't imagine there would be any more, can you?" she asked her sister. Andromeda leaned forward and continued in a hushed voice.

"There is the small matter of…" she paused here as though about to say a scandalously inappropriate word. "_Her father_, and his family," she said as discreetly as possible, Narcissa chewed her lip for a second as she thought.

"If the scoundrel came from a family of wealth and power then I am sure our sister would not have kept it a secret even from her family," she reasoned. "And if the family were not of wealth and power they would not have a vault to give her."

"Of course," Andromeda agreed, a relieved smile spreading across her face. "We are being silly, but perhaps it would be best to have someone on the inside… keeping an eye on her whilst she is at school, none the less."

"Are you suggesting we send an owl to our dear cousin Aurora?"

**30****th**** of September 1997**

Lyra woke early on the morning of her birthday, bright eyed and eager to open her locket at last. She sat up in the bed of her four-poster and had not even the time to pull back the hangings or toss away the green duvet before her hands were at her chest, prising open the heavy, old locket with her finger nails.

Finally she managed to find purchase on the impossibly smooth metal and for the first time since she got it, she heard a dull click and the locket opened, sending something falling into her lap. Curiously Lyra plucked the object from the duvet cover and brought it up to eye level.

A tiny golden key.

Of course it didn't actually open anything, it was merely a trinket but this trinket made a smile spread across Lyra's face and her eyes light up, for she knew what it symbolized and suddenly why Dumbledore was suggesting she left the castle became glaringly obvious-Aunt Narcissa probably had something to do with it- she had to go to Gringotts this morning.

Her inheritance was valid.

Lyra had been to London many times on official family business, it was one of the perks, or downsides- depending on which way you looked at it- to being part of an ancient and rich pureblood family. However, on the last of September, an unseasonably chilly, crisp day dawned and the last Black heir turned eighteen- the age of inheritance and she was even more excited for this day than she was for her birthday one year ago, when she legally became an adult in the eyes of the law.

She wore a navy blue blouse with a high neckline and long sleeves, tucked into a long, flowing black shirt which kissed the ground, hiding her high-heeled leather boots and thick warm tights. She wore her old silver locket and an emerald bracelet with the Black crest. She donned her thickest black cloak and wrapped it securely around her, fastening it under her chin and pulling the large hood over her long, raven hair.

She met Professor Snape in the Entrance Hall, before any of the other students had even woken from their slumbers.

"Good luck today Miss Black," he had said to her, brandishing her letter of consent from the headmaster briskly.

"Thank you Professor," she had replied with an equally impassive demeanour, snatching the parchment swiftly and inclining her head to her head of house before leaving without either of them uttering another word.

When Lyra came stepped into Gringotts, she did not take her hood down, as was the custom but rather preferred to keep it up, she had found she had often deserved double takes and fearful looks whilst in Diagon Alley, followed by looks of relief and the people in question relaxing and walking away. It was all very strange for her.

"Excuse me," she said arrogantly to one of the goblins, her manner haughty and detached. I am here for an appointment with your family affairs solicitor.

"Name," the goblin clerk asked, not looking up from his paper work.

Lyra gritted her teeth at his impertinence fingered the handle of her wand through the material of her cloak.

"Miss Lyra Black," she said forcefully, glowering darkly at the creature. Upon hearing her name, the goblin dropped his quill and his eyes snapped to her face.

"Many apologies Miss Black," he said with politeness hardly ever bestowed upon witches or wizards by goblins. "Gornuk is waiting for you in his office regarding you reaching your age of inheritance today. That door right there will take you to his office, the very last door on the right ma'am." The goblin pointed a long, wrinkly finger at the large, ornate doorway which led off of the main room at Gringotts.

Lyra nodded once and followed his instructions.

She did not knock before entering the grand office of the goblin who headed the law division of Gringotts bank.

"Gornuk," she greeted with a formal bow of the head.

"Miss Black," the goblin replied with practice ease. "You enter a goblins office without knocking?"

"You and I both know that knocking wastes time and wasting time wastes money," she replied, seating herself on the chair the other side of the goblin's desk. A wry smile appeared on his face.

"You are wise to the ways of Goblins I see Miss Black," he remarked, amusement and pleasant surprise evident in his voice.

"Let us call it an understanding of our mutual views, shall we?" she responded, not returning the smirk which the goblin sent her. "I shall not play games and waste time here, Gornuk, I am most anxious to see my inheritance."

"I understand Miss Black," the goblin replied, reaching into a drawer of his desk and withdrawing a piece of seemingly unimportant and blank parchment along with a shining silver dagger. "In order to prove your identity and to ascertain which vault is now in your possession you must put a spot of blood in the centre of this parchment."

"I see," Lyra responded reaching for the dagger.

Gorgnuk had never seen someone willing deposit blood so quickly in his life, he was quite impressed. Without hesitation or even flinching she drew the blade of the dagger across the palm of her hand in a quick stroke, dark blood seeping from the wound immediately. Purposefully she pressed her palm firmly on the parchment and slid it and the instantaneously clean dagger back to the goblin before withdrawing her wand from her cloak and watching as her flesh knitted itself back together without an uttering falling from her pursed lips.

Quickly Gorgnuk shook off his awe at the young lady's actions and watched as characters formed on the page in her blood.

"Miss Black, were you aware of the number of vaults you would be gaining access to today?" he asked.

"One. A Black family vault," she replied in a bored tone.

"You are mistaken Miss Black," he said slowly. "There is a second vault of which you lay claim to."

"Belonging to whom exactly?" she asked.

"The records say that the vault was set up in the year of Merlin 990 and there hasn't been any activity in it 1099," the goblin explained. "Gringotts has changed systems since then, the name of the first account holder has been lost. Once you enter the vault we can discern beyond any doubt the original owner."

"Why has it been left to me?" she questioned, her brow furrowing. The goblin looked over the paperwork on his desk once again.

"According to my records it is a run of the mill family law inheritance case," he replied.

"In that case, why has it not been opened for so long?" Lyra asked. "Surely if it was a family inheritance one of my ancestors would have opened it." The goblin looked pensive for a second.

"Not necessarily," he said slowly and thoughtfully. "It is the responsibility of the family to inform heirs of vaults which can be claimed or of the individual to come to the bank to check. You have only discovered this vault in your name whilst being granted access to another extremely old wizarding vault… it is possible that it is just a coincidence that your ancestors had not the joy of sharing."

"I wish to see this vault at once," Lyra told the goblin, now more intrigued by this mysterious, ancient vault than she was the Black vault.

"Allow me to accompany you there personally, Miss Black," Gorgnuk said, rising from his chair.

Lyra was used to coming down into the Gringotts vaults with Narcissa, she had visited the Malfoy vaults with her before, it was very close to the Black vaults, in what she thought was the heart of the Gringotts caverns but on this ride down to the unexplained vault, Lyra noticed that it took a substantial time longer to complete. The cart twisted and turned many more times and Lyra was marvelling at the protective enchantments they had to get through.

"This is the vault Miss Black," Gorgnuk said as they stepped out of the cart onto a platform at the top of the deep canyon they had just scaled, it was eerily beautiful looking over the crags in the misty, grey blue light that illuminated the vaults here.

Lyra turned to the door, it was small, she would have to duck to go through it, she looked at the goblin who seemed to sense her questions and in reply just shrugged,

"Place your hand here Miss Black," he instructed, gesturing to the centre of the door. She obliged and put her hand straight on the door, it melted away and she took a look at the goblin before ducking through the door.

"I shall follow you in a few minutes if that is acceptable Miss Black," he said.

"Quite."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

**30****th**** of September 1997**

As she entered the vault, lamps burst into life on the walls. The flames illuminating the room with warm, glowing orange light, Lyra's eyes turned to saucers as she took in what was in the vault. It was huge.

There were chests upon chests stacked up tall in the corner nearest the door, artefacts on tables and in cabinets and shelves of books at the back, reaching high up into the cavernous space, all the way to the ceiling fifty feet above. It would have been awe inspiring had it not been for the tapestry on one of the stone walls, which chilled to Lyra to the bone.

A yellow tapestry with a black badger emblazoned on it.

"No," she breathed. Her eyes as wide as saucers.

_She, _Lyra Black, was the last surviving heir of Helga Hufflepuff? It could not be possible. She was a Slytherin, she was a Black.

She hated Hufflepuffs, they were sickly sweet and went round with disturbing, ever present smiles and glassy looks of contentment in their eyes.

Lyra felt sick to the stomach for a moment, before collecting herself.

Helga Hufflepuff had been an extremely powerful witch after all, there was no shame in being related to a founder of Hogwarts school. Not at all.

Before she had the chance to move from the shock, the goblin slipped in after her. She didn't listen as he wattled on about fetching his colleagues as this was a big find and would need extensive work done she also didn't when he had gone again, but Lyra stepped forward to the book on the pedestal directly in front of the entrance.

It was a large, old looking tome with a light, brown leather cover and heavy yellow pages. With slightly shaking hand she opened the book.

It was all she could do to jump backward in surprise without letting out a scream at what she saw. Within the book was the relief of a face which when the book was opened took a deep shaky breath- like the plump, kind face was breathing for the first time in centuries.

"Ah," the face sighed, opening her eyes and moved in way which looked as she was rolling her non-existent shoulders. "And who are you my dear?"

Very uncharacteristically, for her, Lyra lost her voice.

"Lyra, Lyra Black," she managed to choke out finally.

"Well, come here, don't be shy, let's have a look at you love," the face instructed, smiling brightly and her voice lilted with a Welsh accent. "Ah look at you, you're beautiful. How old are you sweetheart?"

"Eighteen today," she answered.

"Happy birthday my dear," she said kindly. "I suppose this is a good a present as any," her speech was interrupted by a laugh escaping from her lips. "I am sorry, let me explain. I am Helga Hufflepuff-"

"Helga Hufflepuff is dead," Lyra interrupted. "You can't be her." The patient woman laughed again and shook her head.

"Well dear, if you look at it like that, I am the essence of Helga Hufflepuff, this book is the same idea as a posthumous portrait," she explained. "It seems you are the first of my heirs since my own son to open this vault and my book, what is the year?"

"1998," Lyra replied.

"Ah, it's been a long time then," she said thoughtfully. "No matter, all will still be in order with your inheritance."

"What inheritance are you talking about Ms. Hufflepuff?" Lyra asked, not daring to be cheeky around one of the founders of Hogwarts, even if she was just in a book.

"Ms Hufflepuff?" she demanded. "No, no, that will not do. You must be unaware of your relationship to me… very well… Aunt Helga will do nicely I think. Your inheritance dear, the property, the fortune." She smiled kindly at Lyra's bemused expression. "The fortune I'm sure is self-explanatory, galleons my dear, simply put. Handy of course but not the most important thing in the world. The property however is more complex and if I do say so myself- a lot more gratifying, you are the sole heir of all the Hufflepuff land, my intellectual property, my personal and family belongings. It is all very exciting. Tell me do you go to Hogwarts?"

"Of course I go to Hogwarts," Lyra replied indignantly, the thirst to prove herself coming forward. "I am a seventh year Slytherin, head girl and captain of the Quidditch team."

"Head girl," Helga said, impressed. "That must mean you are intelligent. I shall admit I was never as intellectual as dear Rowena, but I too loved to read and learn. I have quite an extensive library, many of my own written spell books which I am sure you would enjoy." Lyra was shocked by that revelation, she too wrote her own books. Even in her first year she had graffitied her texts books with additional information and since third year she had compiled her own, often-as was the case in potions especially- completely different from the regulated instructions. She had made her own instructions, through trial and error and a whole of personal practice.

"I think there has been some sort of mistake," Lyra said firmly. "I cannot be your descendant. Surely if I was then… I would have been placed in your house and I have none of the qualities necessary."

"Loyalty, kindness, honesty and hardwork, you display none of them?" Helga replied. "I doubt it very much. If you were not a hard worker, you wouldn't not be head girl, you are loyal are you not, to your family, to your house?"

"That's different,"Lyra protested.

"Hardly," she replied kindly. "I have no doubt in my mind that you are my heir, none at all. I look forward to seeing these traits blossom from you my dear. Lady Black suits you, do you not think?"

"Lady?"

"Of course, you do not think that being the heir of Hufflepuff comes without a title do you?" she laughed. "You seem to be rather proud of you Black roots, so I would not insist that you be known as Lady Hufflepuff, the name has died out now after all. Lady Black of the Most Regal and Magnificent House of Hufflepuff would be your full title or Lady Lyra if you prefer, have you ever dreamed of being Lady of the Manor, Lyra?"

"That only happens in fairy tales," Lyra replied icily, to which Helga just smiled broader.

"And you do not seem to be the type to believe in fairy tales," she replied. "Tell me my dear what is your favourite subject at school?"

"Potions," Lyra replied, a little too quickly for Helga to believe, she raised her eyebrows at the teenager and they continued to stare at one another for some time before Lyra averted her eyes to the floor and added sulkily. "Herbology."

"And why did you say Potions first?" Helga asked, coaxing for an answer. Lyra lifted her faze from the floor to the book straight in the eye.

"Because Herbology is for Hufflepuffs," she snapped, jaw clenching in irritation.

"Oh my dear, the irony is not lost on me," Helga chuckled. "Now do come on I am dying to get out of this book and into a nice frame. The doors will lock if you leave, do not worry about the goblins. Now let me see if I can remember, there should be a single piece of jewellery here somewhere…a ring… try the cabinet under the tapestry." Lyra did as Helga instructed and searched for the ring in the cabinet, soon enough she found it.

It had a smooth, piece of glass, embedded with chips of ruby, sapphire, amber and emerald on a gold band.

"Is this it?" Lyra asked, holding out the ring in front of the book.

"That's it," she confirmed. "Now in a moment I need you to pick up this book and then slip the ring onto the middle finger of your right hand and say very clearly 'the manor.' Whenever you are ready."

Lyra nodded once and did exactly as instructed and felt the familiar feeling of using a portkey. Within a few seconds Lyra felt her feet land on stone and she opened her eyes. She was now on the front doorstep of a large, pretty building with sandstone walls covered in ivy and climbing shrubbery. The heavy oak front door was firmly closed to the sweeping gravel drive which led to it.

Lyra opened the book in her arms once again.

"Press your ring against the handle, you'll see where," Helga told her and Lyra couldn't help but comply. Sure enough there was an indentation in the iron handle where the ring fit perfectly. She twisted her fingers slightly and the door swung open.

"Put this book on the pedestal," Helga instructed, Lyra advanced through the house cautiously, taking care to shut the door with a soft thud behind her before setting the book down on the pedestal which rested in the Entrance Hall, where many snoozing portraits sat.

Lyra watched with interest as the face retreated back into the book until the page was once again smooth and flat, before flicking her eyes to the nearest portrait where a plump woman, with reddish-brown hair, a kind smile, warm eyes and dimples sat in dark yellow robes.

"My dear," she said, beaming as she took in the site of Lyra stood in the foyer of her ancestral home. "Oh it is good to be out of that damned book." Helga Hufflepuff stretched exaggeratedly and swung her shoulders in merriment.

"Do step closer my dear, there's a good girl," she instructed, waving a podgy hand. Lyra stepped cautiously forward, the weight of her wand in her pocket reassuring, though she had the inkling she would not need it.

"Welcome home," Helga exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with glee. "I cannot wait for you to see everything, it is just marvellous. You must call an elf, have them show you around. You are used to elves, being a Black?"

"Yes, the Blacks and the Malfoys both have elves," Lyra said with a nod.

"Excellent, excellent," Helga cooed, clapping her hands together. "Now, you must call, 'I and then your full name, call upon the head elf of the House of Hufflepuff to myself, the heir of Hufflepuff' and be polite to our dear little friends my love. They work so much better, with a little smile on their precious faces." Lyra had to stop herself from rolling her eyes.

"I, Lyra Elladora Bellatrix Black call upon the head elf of the House of Hufflepuff to myself, the heir of Hufflepuff," Lyra recited clearly. Sure enough, just as she was used to when she called at home with Aunt Narcissa an elf appeared with a pop before her.

This elf had especially floppy ears, large green eyes and was wearing a black uniform with a badger on the front.

"Head elf, Jefe at your service ma'am," squeaked the elf, bowing so low its already stubby nose was pressed against the floor tiles. "It is an honour and a privilege to welcome the heir of Hufflepuff home at last."

"Thank you," Lyra replied, she would never admit it, but she rather liked house elves in the same way which some girls liked horses or puppies. She thought they were awfully useful and just a little bit adorable.

"May Jefe recognize your true title mistress?" the elf asked, bowing again.

"Um," Lyra said, recalling what Aunty Helga had said in the vault. "Lady Lyra Elladora Bellatrix Black, of the Most Regal and Magnificent House of Hufflepuff."

"If you will swear in the elves Lady Black, I will have Bett make up your suite immediately," the elf said.

"My suite?" Lyra asked. "I can't stay here, I go to Hogwarts."

"Hush, hush, hush," Helga said from her portrait. "Jefe, proceed with summoning the other elves if you will. Lyra my dear, you are nobility now. A simple dual portrait passage is in order I think. There are some in storage, we will have an elf hang one portrait in your room at school and one here in the manor. As you do not share a dormitory no one will notice your absence."

Lyra's jaw dropped in astonishment.

"How very Slytherin of you," she remarked to the painting. Helga let out an indulgent giggle and waved a hand.

"From you my dear, I shall take that as a compliment," she laughed. "Now, allow me to explain. This is the main property in Hufflepuff inventory, the others do not have permanent elves, you should probably wait until you've finished school or are on a holiday or something to visit them, some are quite the distance. We are of course in an unplottable location in North Wales, but a stone's through from my hometown. The elves here are descended from my very own, each live to serve this house whilst it is unoccupied but now you have arrived, you must swear them in. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I do," Lyra said with a nod. "I have seen Uncle Lucius and Aunt Cissy do it before."

"Lady Black, the elves are assembled in the next room ma'am," Jefe said, appearing in the room once again and bowing low.

"I will see them now," Lyra said importantly, before adding. "Thank you Jefe." The elf's eyes filled with delight and he bowed once again.

"It is Jefe's pleasure mistress," he gushed. "Please follow me." Lyra did as she was told by the elf and followed them through the door to the next room. It was obviously the formal reception room, there was many low, settees with golden legs and pale cream cushions arranged in a ring around a beautifully carved coffee table. There was also a small piano, many paintings and a cabinet filled with trinkets and ornaments. Lyra walked across the room, her heels sinking into the plush cream carpet and perched herself on a sofa, crossing her legs and placing her hands in her lap.

She noticed Helga dart into one of the frames on the wall, but she did not say anything.

"May I introduce to you Lady Black, the five elves which currently work here at the manor," Jefe said, gesturing to the elves who were regarding Lyra with awe in their eyes.

"Will the first elf step forward?" Lyra questioned, looking to each of the elves, a quaking elf stepped forward first. "And you are?"

"Betts Ma'am," the elf said, her head bowed as she wrung her hands. "Betts is a maid, Betts takes care of all the linens and the towels and the cleaning."

"Do you wish to remain here at Hufflepuff Manor?" Lyra asked.

"Y-y-yes ma'am, very much," Betts stammered.

"I would be delighted to have to continue your work here Betts," Lyra said holding out a hand for her to take. The elf gasped and smiled brightly, reaching out and clasping Lyra's hand. "I hereby extend the offer to bond you to the House of Hufflepuff."

"I hereby bond to Lady Black of the House of Hufflepuff," the elf squeaked happily.

This repeated itself for Boden, who took care of the gardens and greenhouses, Freir, the cook and shopper, Helf the personal elf and her twin brother, Heft the 'academia elf' whatever that meant, then of course there was Jefe to swear in.

Boden disappeared because he wanted to have the greenhouses perfect for inspection, Freir disapparated so that she could buy food to make lunch, Helf and Heft sloped off to set up the link between the manor and Hogwarts and collect Lyra's things for her. Jefe was left to do the most important job of the grand tour.

The first floor was all very proper and fancy, with a large drawing room and a dining room to seat a small army. The second was more relaxed with wings of guest bedrooms and luxuriant bathrooms. The third floor consisted of the library which Lyra was eager to explore further when the time came and a magnificent potions lab with every ingredient one could possible wont for in the store cupboard, either magically preserved, like the rest of the house for hundreds of years or updated by the elves in the hope that the heir would come home soon and be in need of powered asphodel. The fourth floor was the master suite, with bountiful closets which the elves had already stocked and a bed bigger than her room at Hogwarts. Across the long hall was the large, spacious office with a trapdoor down to the library and a spiral staircase up to the tower. The tower was quite bit taller than the rest of the house with huge windows and a telescope larger than any Lyra had ever seen at Hogwarts. A large, circular desk with drawers all the way round sat in the middle, other instruments filling it's surface and handwritten lunar cycles and star charts within it. Lyra noticed on a shelf many crystal balls and other apparatus of that nature which she recognized from Aunt Narcissa's study at Malfoy Manor. She knew it would be no use to her and made a mental note to swap those into storage and have more Astronomy books brought up. Narcissa may be gifted with the sight of the Seer but she was under no illusions that she was.

It had only been a quick tour and Lyra was eager to discover the rest of the secrets that the house had to offer, but by the time she had a hasty look around she had been told that lunch was ready.

"After lunch, Jefe," Lyra said as they walked down from the tower to the dining room. "I would like to speak to an elf about the current wards and which need to be improved upon and then I must have one of you go to Gringotts and smooth everything over, I do not want my family to know of this just yet."

"Of course Lady Black," Jefe said. "Jefe believes Heft can help you with that and Jefe shall go to Gringotts personally for you. The link between your Hogwarts quarters and the manor has been established. Where would you like the portrait to sit here?"

"In my office," Lyra replied. "After I have spoken to Heft about the wards I shall then go down to the grounds and greenhouses to see Boden's work."

"Of course ma'am Jefe shall have a warmer cloak sent for you," Jefe replied as they entered the dining hall. A lidded dish sat in the seat at the head of the table. "Frier sends her apologies ma'am, but she could only make dinner with what was in the muggle village but a mile and a half from the manor here. She is very sorry if it is not to your liking and she will make something different if it is not acceptable to you." Then he added in an undertone. "Frier is being very distressed that she does not know what types of food you like ma'am, all of a fluster down the kitchens." Lyra nodded once and seated herself at the table, lifting the lid off the plate. White fish in some sort of sauce sat in the middle with a small mountain of new potatoes and piles of fresh green vegetables.

Slowly she cut a piece of the fish and popped it into her mouth on the gilded fork.

"Tell Frier, that I send my compliments," she said in dismissal.

"Thank you Lady Black," Jefe said, bowing low with a broad grin on his face. "Frier will very much be relieved."

There was an icy wind out in the grounds which Lyra had not noticed in London and she was thankful for the cloak which Jefe provided. She had just spoken with Heft about the wards in place, interestingly he had informed her that all the wards which were put on Hogwarts were automatically added to this property, even without Dumbledore's knowledge and control. She had spoken with him about getting a few more wards put on the house and then taken her leave to stroll outside.

The flower beds were in excellent condition and Lyra enjoyed recognizing each of them from drawings she had seen in books, but never seen in real life before. The lawns were all immaculately cut and groomed, Lyra almost felt bad when she stepped on it and her heels sunk into the soft turf, but then she lifted her foot and the wound in the lawn magically healed itself.

More impressive were the greenhouses, whereas at Hogwarts they were jumbled and overgrown, here they were neat and well looked after.

"Welcome to Greenhouse 4 Lady Black," Boden said, bowing low as she entered the first greenhouse almost toppling over in happiness when she remarked how well kept it was. She spent a while examining the plants and asking Boden questions about how he had managed to all of this himself. He had told her that he had frequently visited one of the portraits in the house, an ex-Herbology master who had told him everything he needed to know. He told her that many decesendants of Helga Hufflepuff lined the walls of the manor and many of them had very skilful professions and would love to be of service.

She saw that Boden had kept the greenhouses ticking over nicely, but what was needed now was her expertise to make them flourish.

Later, something twigged in Lyra's mind and she asked Boden to take to her to the portrait he had mentioned earlier, he obliged and led her through a passageway which he revealed from the wall which led up into the potions lab. Just outside was the portrait of a man with small glasses perched on the end of his long nose, a moustache and grey hair peeking out from under his squashy purple wizard's hat.

"Ah," he said interestedly. "The lady of the manor has come to introduce herself. It is nice to meet you, Beaumont Marjoribanks."

"Beaumont Marjoribanks?" Lyra repeated. "Discovered the uses of gillyweed and many other plants, that Beaumont Marjoribanks?"

"The very same my dear," he said a grin creeping over his features. "It seems we are related in some way."

"Do you know if every one of our relatives has a portrait?" Lyra asked anxiously.

"No," he said shaking his head. "Only those deemed worthy it seems, young Oswald was the last to appear… deary me must have been about seventy years ago now. Yes…. I remember, Oswald Beamish appeared sometime in the thirties, preached to us all about Goblin rights for about a decade."

"Oh," Lyra said, internally sighing. "Well never mind then."

"Now, whilst you're here enquiring after portraits there is one who is very anxious to meet you," he told her. "Last portrait on the right of this hall my dear." Lyra thanked him and went to find the portrait in question.

The last on the right was a young woman with long curls much like Lyra's own, but in a bright orange. She had the same pale skin and heavy lidded eyes that Lyra knew both she and Aunt Andromeda sported.

"Hello," Lyra said unsurely, frowning at the portrait. The redhead removed her gaze from the loch-scape behind her and focused on the witch who had come to her, her look of longing not waning.

"Lady Black," she greeted with a serene smile, her voice reminding Lyra of that odd girl, Luna in the year below. "It is a pleasure to meet you at last."

"Likewise," she replied unsurely.

"My name is Mirabella," she said. "We're related you know."

"Yes, that's why we're both here, in the manor," she said. Mirabella shook her head, her curls bouncing.

"No, Lady Black we are related in two ways, can you not see it?"

"You're a Black too?" Lyra queried.

"My mother was a Black, my father was a Plunkett," she said sadly. "I got blasted off the family tree for running away to be married to someone who they did not approve of."

"A merman?" Lyra asked, the name Mirabella Plunkett clicking in her mind at last. The portrait nodded sadly.

"I tried to fake my own tragic demise to be with him," she sighed.

"By turning yourself into a haddock?" Lyra asked.

"Yes," she confirmed. "Unfortunately the faking aspect of that plan did not work out so well… I transformed whilst in the city of Newcastle… nowhere near any water."

"I'm sorry to hear of it," Lyra said uncomfortably… no wonder the imbecile was blasted of the tree.

"It was nice meeting one of my distant cousins," Mirabella said dismissively. "I shall not take up any more of your time Lady Black."

**(A/N This chapter is in honour of my beautiful niece Lucy, who was born yesterday at 6pm and my dearest big brother and sister-in-law.) **


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

**30****th**** of September 1997**

"Oi, Black," came a shout from behind her. Lyra sighed, it seemed that this was the only way Potter could address her.

"What is it Potter?" she demanded, turning on him and raising an eyebrow. She was on the way to the kitchens and not in the mood to listen to his stupid ramblings. She had her heart set on a slice of chocolate cake with the creamy icing that the Hogwarts elves had perfected with a glass of warm milk- how very Hufflepuff she thought, but given her dues. It was her birthday.

"How did it go?" he asked, referring to her trip to Gringotts.

"Better than expected," she replied.

"Well, here's your present," he said pulling out a package, badly wrapped in Christmas paper from behind his back.

"Thank you," she said, opening the flat parcel with interest. She pulled out a photograph of three children crowded around a blonde adult. Lyra involuntarily smiled at the photograph, watching as Aunt Cissy tried to stop Draco from pulling Lyra's hair and telling Harry off for laughing at them both. On the other side was a photograph taken in the summer. Aunt Cissy, Aunt Andy and Uncle Lucius had taken the three of them to tour the peak district for a few weeks, stopping at various luxury lodges along the way, this photo showed Lyra, Draco and Harry all snuggled up under a blanket, nursing hot chocolate- it had been a chilly evening- and Narcissa, Andromeda and Lucius were sat beside them on the settee. They all looked strangely content and happy to be around their adopted family.

"Thank you Harry," she said, too overcome by seeing the photographs to say much more.

"Happy Birthday Lyra," he said, enveloping her in a hug which she returned after a moments hesitation, gripping at the wool of his scarlet jumper with her long nails.

After Lyra had gotten her spot of supper from the kitchens she returned to her dormitory, where three owls were waiting for her. She took the parcel off the largest, a regal looking eagle owl first.

_My dearest Lyra_

_Happy 18__th__ birthday my dear.  
>I hope you have had a wonderful day and that you did indeed go to Gringotts this morning to see your inheritance vault. As much as I would love to hear everything about your day it is against the rules to tell other family members, so alas I will have to do without that knowledge- just an assurance of your pleasure in seeing it shall have to tide me over.<br>When Draco and Harry turn eighteen in the summer they will also have to make the trip to Gringotts to access their own familial vaults. I ask only that when the time comes you mention your own experience to them as I cannot tell them what will be inside or offer them any advice.  
>I hope you enjoy your present and that sending it by owl post didn't do it any harm.<br>Uncle Lucius also sends his congratulations but he is working late this evening and is not back in time to sign this letter, he worked awfully hard in finding the present for you- I wouldn't know where to start looking, but we both know he has his contacts. _

_I cannot wait to see you home for Christmas,  
>All my love<br>Aunt Cissy _

Lyra was filled with affection for her surrogate mother whilst she read the letter and even more so when she opened the large package which had been sent with it.

An odd looking tropical plant with orange, pink and yellow flowers sat in the packaging, it's large, flat and smooth leaves uncurling as it was pulled out of darkness. Sat under its pot were four books.

_Joya de los Trópicos: A Herbologists Guide  
>Joya de los Trópicos: A Potioneers Guide<br>An In Depth History of Natural Potioneering  
>Plants and Potions of the Aztec Sorcerers<em>

Lyra could not help but smile, Aunt Cissy and Uncle Lucius had managed to get hold of one of the rarest plants in the wizarding world for her birthday and had given her books which she had looked for so long to find in the Hogwarts library-with no luck. Lyra checked the cover, all first editions no less. She made a mental note to thank them as soon as she opened the other gift.

Still smiling she picked up the next letter.

_Dear Lyra  
>Wishing you an excellent birthday and eager to see you again. The book I sent was one of Ted's, I hope you find it interesting and useful.<em>

Love, Aunt Andromeda and Dora

Lyra smiled sadly at Aunt Andy sending her one of her late husband's books, but she was grateful all the same. It was a copy of a_ Creature Charms_ something she would find very useful in her Care of Magical creatures classes. She had also sent packs of sweets from Honeydukes and a wand holster and a magical swiss army knife, which Lyra could bet was her auror cousin's input. _  
><em>

_Dear Lady Black  
>Your elf has informed Gringotts of all your wishes and as such to your demands, your patronage will be anonymous to outsiders and all account activity will be kept in the most top secret of files. This correspondence is conformation of your elf's demands and all further correspondence shall be sent to your new address to be taken care of by said elf.<br>As you did not have the time to actually visit your Black family vault today I am also writing to inform you that with the inheritance came the title, Lady Black of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black- as the other title of Lady Black which you hold is for the more aristocratic house of Hufflepuff that is the one Gringotts will have primarily on its files but it shall not become publicly known you so wish it.  
>With respect,<br>Gorguk, Head of Inheritance and Law Division, Gringotts Bank_

Lyra nodded once and burnt the correspondence with her wand before placing the plant on the coffee table and opening the herbologist's guide so she was fully informed before she started to tend to it.

Last thing that evening, before she went to sleep Lyra sat the photographs of her family on the bedside table next to her bed in Hogwarts, making a mental note to put some photographs up at the manor.

For a while she just sat on the thin mattress, staring at the photograph and letting the memories wash over her.

**29****th ****of July 1990**

_It was a cool, blustery August day in the West Country gorges that they had come to visit. _

"_Do you enjoy coming to see the best scenery the British Isles has to offer my dear?" Narcissa asked as they walked, separated from the boys. She was dressed casually, for her at least. Her outer robes were made of thick green tweed which cinched in at the waist with large, flat green buttons. She had previously charmed her black skirts, which should be muddying in the terrain as they skimmed the leaf litter. _

"_I do Aunty Cissy," an eleven year old Lyra had replied. "It is very pretty here, if it is this landscape which makes muggles believe in faeries and nymphs… it is a wonder how any can be as dense as to deny their existence at all."_

_Narcissa smiled._

"_You shall love the Hogwarts wilderness," she said nostalgically. "I remember that I did very much. What do you suppose will be your favourite subject?" _

"_Draco says that Potions is the best subject by far," she replied. _

"_Do not listen to Draco, he has never taken a class at Hogwarts, what does he know?" she scoffed. "You like nature do you not, what about Herbology?" _

"_Draco, Uncle Lucius and Aunt Druella said that Herbology is for Hufflepuffs," she replied matter-of-factly. Narcissa laughed again, she had a high, tinkling laugh. _

"_Deary me Lyra, soon you will realize that it is not worth listening to those lot, I was a Slytherin and my favourite subject was Divination, but you can't take that until third year and I don't think it's for you, you are much too scientific," she laughed. "Oh how I will miss you when you leave for Hogwarts next week." _

"_I will miss you too Aunt Cissy," Lyra said honestly, smiling up at Narcissa. Narcissa crouched down then to Lyra's height. _

"_If it were not so important for you to go and learn and I were a little more selfish then I might just not let you go to Hogwarts and keep you all to myself," Narcissa teased, beaming at the little girl and pushing her long raven hair behind her ear. _

"_You could come too Aunty," Lyra said. Narcissa just laughed again, Lyra loved the sound of her aunt laughing. _

"_Oh I am much too old my love," she replied. "I am only a few years younger than your father." _

"_Did he go to Hogwarts too Aunty Cissy?" she asked. _

"_Yes my dear, he did, he was a brave man," she replied. "You don't look anything like him, you're so like Aunt Andy."_

"_No, Aunt Andy is tall and pretty and has long hair," Lyra denied._

"_Your hair will be as long as hers soon and when you are older you will be tall," she laughed, tugging likely at the ends of the little girl's tresses. "And you're the prettiest little witch I know."_

"_You're the most beautiful lady in the world Aunt Cissy," she said, beaming up at her. _

"_Oh shush you," Narcissa laughed, pulling Lyra into a hug and sighing heavily and waiting a while before talking again. "You're like the daughter I never had Lyra, I love you very much, always remember that." Lyra squeezed her aunt harder and felt a kiss placed on her forehead. _

**1****st**** of October 1997**

The next morning, when the post came for a moment Lyra's heart beat much too fast and seemed to jump into her throat. One of the pages had her name.

**Black heir reaches age of inheritance and receives title of Her Ladyship.**

Thankfully, it was just a small article which mentioned how she had come into Black money and had inherited Druella Black's title. Most of it was actually about Draco because he was the closer relation to Druella which according to the Daily Prophet must mean that he was already in definite receipt of a Malfoy title.

**15****th**** of October 1997**  
>The library in the manor was something that Lyra found much pleasure in; some of the books were so old that she was sure they must be one of a kind. In the back corner of the library there was a shelf full of handwritten books labelled only with what at first glance Lyra thought were dates, before she realized they could not possibly be as they must have been written long before.<p>

She opened to the first entry in what looked to be the last written of the books.

_When Lightning strikes the orphan down  
>The Lord shall be no more<br>But Lightning shall be an orphan hence  
>But later Lord of lore<em>

Thunder shall not know her true self  
>Despite close others being sure<br>Until the choice is made between golden love and raven life  
>When the wolf comes to the door<p>

_The one true home shall reveal in the storm.  
>Thunder and Lightning shall be together for<br>One and eight or one and eighty, but only when they come together,  
>Will the home, for them, always hold an open door. <em>

_Thus half of the founder shall be found and half still a hiding. _

Lyra read it through thrice before coming to the conclusion that whilst this was a very pretty verse about what she could only assume was religion she really did not have time for poetry when there were so many text books to read.

The potions section was particularly interesting most of the heavy, printed books had someone's elegant scrawl in the margins, making suggestions and giving tips. Lyra wondered who it could have been who modified the tomes but accepted that that fact was probably lost in time now.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**12****th**** of October 1997**

Everyone expected that the morning of the twelfth of November would be a normal one, that the students would file down to breakfast sleepily, ties askew and ready for a day of learning… and for a few glorious hours, the morning of the twelfth of November was very normal indeed, the only thing unusual thing was that the headmaster and the heads of house were missing from breakfast, and even that wasn't a completely unusual occurrence.

No, this particular morning was completely unordinary. Until the post owls came and with them copies of the Daily Prophet. Lyra barely had a chance to glance at the headline before the hall broke into deafening chatter.

_**Breakout from Azkaban Prison**_ took up the front page along with a photograph of a gaunt witch, with flyaway curls, heavy-lidded eyes, pale waxy skin and a pronounced scowl.

_Known murderess Bellatrix Lestrange has gone down in the history books today as being the first known escapee from the Azkaban fortress at approximately 3am. Madame Lestrange was one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's most loyal and devoted Death Eaters. Known as his greatest lieutenant, Lestrange was imprisoned shortly after his downfall for a multitude of crimes. In an interview with Minister Shacklebolt early this morning he urged all witched and wizards to be "calm, vigilant and under no circumstances approach Bellatrix Lestrange." The ministry has already started its hunt for the convict and officials urge the nation to stay wary until she has been apprehended. _

This was all Lyra managed to read of the newspaper, not noticing the stares that were coming her way from the other students. Many of them saw the slight resemblance between the skeletal looking older woman in prison uniform on the front page and their head girl.

The chatter only subsided once the doors burst open and the headmaster hurried in.

"Silence!" he called in a booming voice commanding his students. "From this noise I take that you have all heard the grave news. I would like you all to stay calm and proceed back to your common rooms where your head of house is waiting to inform you all of the situation and the new safety measures which will be put in place by midday today. Prefects escort the younger years and Mr Malfoy and Miss Black please proceed to my office."

As soon as he finished speaking the students leapt up at swarmed towards the doors, anxious to return to their common rooms.

"What do you know about Bellatrix Lestrange?" Lyra demanded from Draco as they left, grabbing hold of his arm so not to be parted in the crowd.

"Nothing at all," he replied, his worry evident in the way his eyes shifted and brow furrowed. "Why have we been called to Dumbledore's office."

"I think Lestrange is a married name," Lyra said quickly. "I think Bellatrix Black was her name when she was young."

"Black?" Draco repeated. "No… no… how do you know?"

"Bellatrix Black was head girl the year before Andromeda," Lyra said. "If you look awfully closely at the photograph you can see their resemblance… they have the same hair… the same hair as me." Draco's face visibly paled and he gulped.

"You think that's why we've been called to the office, because we're related to a murderer?"

"Yes," Lyra said firmly. Draco clasped Lyra's hand reassuringly.

"It will be fine," he told her, but she could see in his eyes that he was not sure of it himself.

As they entered Dumbledore's office they were set upon by someone they did not expect to see.

"Aunt Cissy," Lyra choked as her air supply was cut off in a fiercely maternal hug.

"Oh my dears," Narcissa said in relief, kissing both their foreheads before pressing them both against her once again. "I'm so sorry."

"Give them some air Cissy," a familiar voice instructed causing Lyra and Draco to look to the corner of the office where Aunt Andy sat, stiff and upright next to her purple haired daughter.

"Wotcher Draco, Lyra," she greeted with a nod.

"Dora," Draco replied, nodding in her direction.

"What's going on?" Lyra asked, eyes skipping from each of the ladies in the room. Narcissa and Andromeda gave a grimace.

"We have something to tell you," Narcissa said sadly, shaking her head with shame. "But before we do, you have to know we only kept it from you for your own sakes."

"Get on with it Cissy," Andromeda said. "They're all adults. The sooner you tell them the better."

"Hush Andy, this is not something we can just blurt out," the blonde responded irritably. "You have all read the news, about Bellatrix Lestrange breaking out from Azkaban." Tonks, Draco and Lyra all nodded but Narcissa did not continue.

"Bellatrix Lestrange is our elder sister," Andromeda said bluntly earning her a stinging look from her younger sister.

"There must be some kind of mistake," Tonks said. "There is no way we have an aunt who… who is so… so…"

"There is no mistake Dora," Narcissa said gloomily, pulling a photograph from a pocket in her robes. "Here." The three younger Blacks all crowded round to look at the picture. Sure enough three girls were in the frame all smiling and laughing, wearing matching dark, slim fitting dresses. "That was at Regulus' wedding, we were bridesmaids."

"She looks so much like Aunt Andy and Lyra there," Draco said in barely more than a whisper.

"What did Azkaban do to her," Tonks exclaimed, all of them remembering the wraithlike and fearsome creature on the front page.

"It was not kind to her," Narcissa sighed. "But we feel you should know now. I shall be honest, we would have liked to have kept that part of our family hidden from you forever." The three of them just stood there transfixed by the beautiful lady in the photograph. "Are you angry at us?" Narcissa said in a worried whisper.

"We could never be mad at you Aunt Cissy," Lyra said, embracing the woman again. "You did what you thought was best for us and we appreciate that. You were right, as children we could not have known."

**20****th**** of October 1997  
><strong>  
>Lyra thought that she would have to answer question after question about her likeness to Bellatrix Lestrange and what she knew about her. But she was surprised to find that nobody thought she held more than a passing resemblance to the Bellatrix in the photograph, no one had seen any proof her younger self and for that she was thankful.<p>

There had been many rumours about the new security measures being put around the castle, some plausible and realistic like additional wards to the castle and some downright absurd, like putting dementors at every entrance to the grounds- as if Shacklebolt and Dumbledore were stupid enough to do something like that.

No, Lyra had been informed by the elves at the manor that new wards had been put around the castle and therefore her home too. Hogsmeade weekends had been cancelled for all except for seventh years and sixth years who were already seventeen. The possibility of a maniac like Lestrange being able to get to Hogsmeade was too high for the teachers to allow thirteen year olds to go. Only legal adults were permitted and even then most of them stayed inside the castle unless they had some particular shopping they had to do.

The breakout for Harry was very troubling, he knew that he could be a target for the witch, so loyal to the master that he destroyed but he also had a moral dilemma concerning the piece of parchment in his hands. It had been causing him a lot self-doubt in the past term. He ran his fingers over the words, _Messrs' Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs. _

"Padfoot and Prongs," he sighed. He did not know who the other two creators could have been but he knew that Padfoot had been his godfather and Prongs his father, it had taken him many years to deduce that.

He felt bad about keeping the map a secret from Lyra, it was made by her father too. In the end Harry justified it by saying that the map was meant in the spirit to help rule breakers, not apprehend them and that is what the head girl would use it for but in reality, he knew that was not the case… he just couldn't put his finger on why it felt wrong telling her about it.

The other thing that was perplexing him was where Lyra kept disappearing to… he had physically checked the room of requirement and she wasn't in there, two people couldn't use two different places at once… it was very odd and he wanted to get to the bottom of it.

**1****st**** of November 1997**

"Good evening Lady Black," Helga said with a grin as she slipped in the painting of Hogwarts which hung by Lyra's desk in the office.

"Hello Helga," she replied with a smile. "What can I do for you?"

"I've just been talking to the other portraits, I was merely wondering how much time you've been putting into the greenhouses, we all agree they look just wonderful," she complimented.

"Thank you," Lyra said with a smile. "I'll admit, quite a long time." Helga chuckled to herself. "The poetry Helga, in the library, who's it by?"

"There is no poetry in the library, unless you ordered its inclusion," she said frowning.

"The handwritten books, in the back left… by the bust of Gryffindor," Lyra elaborated, Helga stayed silent for a moment, obviously visualizing the library.

"Oh my dear girl, they are not poems, they are prophecies!" she explained. "In our youth, my sister was a gifted Seer, quite fantastic if I do say so. They are not works of fiction… well… it depends what you call fiction."

Growing up with Aunt Cissy had convinced Lyra that divination had foundation, but it needed a true Seer- which Lyra knew she was not.

"She worked with the centaurs for a time, before the relations became so hostile of course. She would sometimes disappear into the Forbidden Forest for days at a time, returning only with parchment full of scrawl. You know, some of them may still be in date… the number on the spine is how many years after it was made that the prediction is meant to happen."

"Do you know when the last book was written?" Lyra asked, remembering the last number on the book she looked at weeks ago.

"Let me think…" she said slowly. "1035 I do believe."

"That would mean that they are for next year," Lyra remarked, rising from her seat and descending the ladder into the library and pulling the book out of the shelf, before she had a chance to open it a loud, urgent knocking resounded around the house.

"Someone is knocking on your door in Hogwarts Lyra," called Helga from the painting in which Lyra could guess Hogwarts was flashing.

"Coming," she shouted back, stuffing the book into her dressing gown pocket and dashing up the ladder and through the door which appeared from behind the painting.

"What is it?" Lyra asked breathlessly as she swung open the door to the corridor, her hair blowing out behind her with the force. Harry stood behind her, looking stricken and anxious, a maroon dressing gown over his grey pyjamas.

"Lestrange has been seen in Hogsmeade," he blurted out. "All students are to report to the Great Hall immediately. Snape and McGonagall have gone to do something with the wards, you have to go and get the Slytherins whilst I get the Gryffindors."

"Thank you Harry," she said breathlessly, before breaking off at run down the corridor, wand held high and illuminated. After racing through the halls and common room she decided to start with the seventh year boys on the top floor.

"Up," she shouted to the four boys who were sleeping, setting of fire crackers with her wand.

"Wasshappenin?" Draco demanded sleepily, sitting upright in bed. Lyra ignored Goyle as he yelped and rolled out of bed.

"Lestrange has been sighted in Hogsmeade," she informed them in a business-like tone. "All students must report to the Great Hall _immediately._ Draco, you get all the boys up whilst I go and get the girls." He nodded, running a hand through his hair and jumping out of bed.

Ten minutes later all the students had been assembled in the Great Hall, sat at their house tables talking in frightened voices and drinking cocoa that the elves had sent up.

"Black, Potter," Flitwick called, having been left in charge.

"I need you both to go down to the gates and see what is happening with Dumbledore, whether or not he feels the students can go back to bed or not. See what threat has been assessed," he instructed. They both nodded professionally and left the Great Hall without another word.

The crossed the Entrance Hall in silence, neither of them betraying their worry with words. Not wanting to let the other know their weakness.

By the time they had left the comfort of the entrance hall into the icy night with no more protection from the chill than their dressing gowns offered, both of them were feeling the adrenaline of knowing that a mass murderer could be anywhere in the darkness.

Neither of them would admit it, but every time a leaf rustled or a shadow moved their hearts jumped into their throats and their grip on their wands tightened. Gradually their paces quickened until they were jogging down the slope to the gates and they came to a stop next to Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall stood just inside the wards of the castle.

"Professor Flitwick sent us Headmaster," Lyra said, her voice clear to try and dispel the sense of panic she was feeling and portray merely an image of unease.

"Very well," Dumbledore said with a nod. "I think we've finished with the wards here.

"He asked us for your decision about the sleeping arrangements of the students," Harry explained.

"I don't think there is any danger-" Dumbledore started but he was cut off by a gasp from McGonagall.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered.

"That rustling," Lyra confirmed, it was much louder than anything which had spooked her and Harry on the walk from the castle. Dumbledore took a tentative step forward, through the wards, the others followed close behind him.

"Homenum revelio," Dumbledore said under his breath holding his wand aloft. Nothing appeared. He and McGonagall gave audible sighs of relief.

"Wait," Lyra said, stepping forward and sweeping her own wand in a circle above her head. "Animagi revelio." A red spark shot from the top of McGonagall's head and to everyone's horror, an identical flash appeared only a hundred yards away.

"Back inside the wards," Dumbledore ordered quickly. Snape instantly pulled Harry and Lyra behind him, the latter of whom noticed warm fingers clasp around her own briefly. She could only hope briefly that they weren't Snapes before she squeezed back.

"Bellatrix Lestrange is not an animagus Albus," Minerva said quickly. "I have seen the list, I would have remembered."

"Would you care to tell us who else would be sneaking the perimeter of the wards in animagus form in the dead of night with a mass murderer on the loose, Minerva?" Snape snapped. McGonagall had no reply.

"What made you check with that spell?" Dumbledore asked Lyra; hands immediately became unlatched.

"It was a long shot… Harry and I's fathers were both unregistered animagi at school… I thought maybe you could have had handful in the castle all at the same time," Lyra said slowly.

"They can't have been," McGonagall protested. "Neither of them had high enough Transfiguration grades and they would never do something so illegal… it is an insult to their memory to say-" McGonagall started to rant.

"They were both aurors, by the time they came old enough to be sentenced to Azkaban for their crime they were already in auror training, voiding that offence," she countered.

"It was a wise move to make Lyra, I'm impressed," Dumbledore said. "All of the students are to stay in the Great Hall tonight; an animagus is infinitely more dangerous to us."

* * *

><p>"Any news," Lyra asked in whisper as her and Harry met as they patrolled along the rows of sleeping students, all huddled up in squashy sleeping bags Dumbledore had conjured for them all.<p>

"No," he replied with a sombre shake of the head. "Pomfrey said to give you this energizing potion though."

"Thank you," she said, downing the small vial. "What's that noise?" Both of them froze and listened to the odd snuffling noise.

"First year?" Harry suggested. Lyra turned and followed the sound, with Harry close behind her.

"Hey," she whispered, crouching down next to a bundle which was moving erratically, as though sobbing. "Calm down." She rubbed circles into the little girl's back and rooted around in her dressing gown pocket, pulling out a chocolate frog. "There's no need to worry, the best wizards and witches in the world are guarding the castle, you're safe. Here now shush." She passed her the chocolate frog and the little girl sniffed heavily but her sobbing stopped. Lyra stood up again and rolled her eyes to Harry before continuing on her patrol. He watched her walk away, mouth agape at what he had just witnessed. It took him a moment to recover before he hurried after her.

"What was that?" he demanded, still whispering.

"Pardon?"

"You just… comforted a first year, I mean… you _hate_ first years," he remarked. "You hate everyone!" Lyra just looked at him with an odd expression of distaste and with a whole word of spiteful insults, biting comebacks and powerful hexes available to her she replied.

"Shut up."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

**10****th**** of November 1997**

Lyra read many of the prophecies in the book in the coming days, some of them were vague and some extremely detailed and complex, but the first one caused a bead of recognition to form in her mind. She just had the unshakable feeling that it meant something.

Nevertheless she did not have time to dwell on riddles made hundreds of years ago when she had so much else to be doing. Pulling on her Quidditch boots she flung her broom over her shoulder and made for the grounds where the rest of the team were waiting.

The Slytherin Quidditch team had been doing a lot of practice this year, the younger members thought it unnecessary as they held the cup already, but Lyra soon beat this complacency out of them. She knew very well that Harry was a better Seeker than Draco and most of the time their difference in skill was the difference in winning and losing, but she also knew that she was a better Captain. She had better tactics and she worked her team harder than Potter would ever dare work his Gryffindors for fear of mutiny, but still last year Slytherin only one the cup by a couple of goals, not a big margin at all and she knew that it was a little bit of tactics but mostly sheer luck.

"The fourth years are annoying," Blaise, the chaser groaned to Lyra and Draco as they walked down to the pitch.

"They think they know everything," Draco agreed. "I think it's time you screamed at them Lyra."

**11****th**** of November 1997**

"A December ball?" Lyra scoffed at the prefect meeting. "We never have dances."

"Dumbledore's orders," Draco sighed. "He thinks that it will improve morale or something. All prefects have to go with dates, it's a dancing ball… heads of house will be giving compulsory dance lessons between now and the fifth."

"The old codger's finally lost it," Lyra sighed, a sentiment shared by much of the school since Dumbledore informed them that Quidditch matches were to be postponed until the new year in the hopes that Lestrange will have been captured by then. "Snape, teaching the waltz?"

"I knew the ministry was putting too much pressure on him since the breakout," Hermione quipped, Lyra smirked at her joke. She was usually so in awe of Dumbledore.

"Well he's finally lost his marbles," Harry sighed, running a hand through his messy black hair. "Rumour among the teachers is that he's already hired a band to play."

"Well I think you are all being very pessimistic," Hannah Abbot said, clapping her hands together. "I think the ball is a wonderful idea, everyone can put on their dress robes and forget about this whole mess we're in for a while." Lyra, Draco, Harry and Hermione just looked at the Hufflepuff with disgust.

Unfortunately it seemed that much of the student body had the same idea as Hannah about this event.

**29****th**** of November 1997**

"So have you got any proposals yet?" Draco asked Lyra as they walked down to the greenhouses for their Tuesday Herbology lesson.

"None of which I have accepted," she replied with air of annoyance. "The next fifth year who asks me to the ball is getting his appendages turned into vegetables. Who are you going with, Parkinson?"

"Good Salazar, no," Draco said, visibly blanching. "Why on earth would I go with that? I have standards Lyra."

"Questionable," she muttered under her breath. "So who are you going with? You've only got a week left to ask someone."

"You've only got a week too," he countered.

"Oh if only we weren't family we could go together," Lyra sarcastically sighed.

"We're only third cousins Lyra," Draco pointed out. "That's perfectly normal for wizards and you know it."

"Okay, I admit it," she replied as they came into the greenhouse complex. "Unfortunately, you're just not good looking enough for me." Pecking him briskly on the cheek she laughed and walked into greenhouse 7.

"What are you looking for ma'am?" asked Helf when she saw Lyra rummaging through one of the many closets in the manor later that day.

"Oh, I was just checking for dress robes," she replied. "Saves me the trip to Hogsmeade, they don't have much of a selection there."

"Yes, and it is dangerous to go shopping by oneself in these times ma'am," Helf said shaking slightly. "Follow Helf ma'am, the dress robes closest is over here. Helf shall alter any you like, some may be a little old fashioned."

After over an hour of the elf trying to convince Lyra to wear a baby pink number, she finally relented and agreed that she could wear the dark purple one and that she would shrink to fit Lyra properly.

"Thank you Helf," Lyra sighed exhaustedly, pleased at having finally finished.

"Now we go look at jewellery, make-up and hair Lady Black!"

"Oh have mercy," she muttered as she was lead into the next room by an extremely eager elf. Oddly, the idea of using her wand to quiet the elf never flashed into her mind. How unusual.

**30****th**** of November 1997**

"Lyra," Harry exclaimed as he climbed into the kitchens. "What are you doing here?" Lyra gave him a look and gestured to the large, frothy hot chocolate in front of her.

"What does it look like?" she retorted.

"Okay, stupid question," he breathed. "What's wrong?"

"What makes you think there's something wrong," she questioned stonily.

"I've known you for sixteen years Lyra," Harry pointed out, stealing a biscuit from her saucer and dunking into the cream on the top of her mug. "What's wrong?" She drummed her fingernails on the table and thought about what to say.

"… I think… there is more to Bellatrix Lestrange than people are telling Draco and I," she said finally. "I mean we were only told when she broke out that she was Draco's aunt, but I think there is something more to that story."

"I didn't know you were related to her," Harry commented, biting into the cookie. Lyra nodded slowly.

"Narcissa and Andromeda's sister, we're second cousins or something," she elaborated before her eyes locked to Harry's hairline. Lightening. "Harry, what do you know about your family history?" she asked, he looked perplexed and shrugged.

"I'm a Potter," he responded. "My mother was a muggleborn, what else do I need to know?"

"Lightening… lightening…" she breathed. "Never mind it's probably nothing."

"Okay," Harry said uncomfortably. "Do you have a date for the ball yet?"

"Nope," Lyra replied, popping the p.

"Well, everyone is terrified of you," Harry chuckled.

"Ha ha," she said sarcastically. "Go on then Romeo, who's your date?"

"I don't have one either," he said in a small voice. "I asked Hermione to go with me, but she's already going with someone else, no idea who."

"Hermione eh," Lyra said winking at him.

"Only because she's my friend and it saves asking out someone I actually like, that's terrifying," he defended, Lyra couldn't help but snigger. "Oh shut up," he said grumpily. "How about we go to the ball together?"

"Together?" Lyra said. "I suppose we could do that. I'm wearing purple."

"I'm wearing black," Harry said. "We won't clash."

"Oh and that's exactly what I am most worried about in this situation."

**5****th**** of December 1997**

Lyra stood dutifully still as she was pulled, painted and preened by the elves at Hufflepuff manor. After what seemed like decades being stood in the bathroom of the master suite she was finally allowed to look in the full length mirror.

Her long, dark curls had been pinned back with large silver pins, so they cascaded down the nape of her neck and between her bare shoulder blades, exposed by the deep v formed by the back of her deep, plum coloured dress. The modest v at the front of adorned with a dainty, silver chain with a tiny Black crest at the bottom. The bodice of the dress clung to her before draping over one hip and falling elegantly to the floor where it trailed behind her. A thick, diamond studded cuff clamped around her thin wrist and she wore the Black ring she owned, along with a Hufflepuff ring, unrecognizable to someone not very well acquainted with ancient wizarding family crests. In a last minute stroke of inspiration she summoned the holster that Tonks had given her for her birthday and strapped her wand to her thigh. Then, until Harry came to escort her to the ball she sat in the common room and read the prophecy book again.

Sure enough, soon later there was knock on the door of the room and Harry waiting behind the door.

"Good evening," Lyra said as she opened the door, appraising his appearance, he actually looked quite handsome.

"Wow, you look…" he stammered. "I mean you look great."

"Thank you," Lyra said, before grinning evilly. "You on the other hand could have at least brushed your hair." Harry let out a laugh and they both walked down to the Great Hall. As they approached McGonagall came, striding quickly out of the Great Hall.

"Ah, here you are last Mr Potter, Miss Black, you are just in time to kick off the dancing," she said, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder to push them forward.

"What?" Harry demanded.

"The dancing, Mr Potter, the head boy and girl are to start the formal dancing," she said as though he was an idiot.

"There must be some sort of mistake," he argued. "I can't dance!"

"To admit to that Mr Potter is admitting that you did not pay attention in my class," McGonagall said sternly, before softening and giving a tight smile. "You have a few minutes to prepare yourself Mr Potter, I am sure you will do just fine." With that she turned and went back into the Great Hall.

"I can't do this," Harry chanted to himself.

"Take off your shoes," Lyra instructed, pulling her wand out from under her dress.

"Why? What are you going to do?" he asked, unlacing his shining leather shoes none the less. She took the shoes in her hand started muttering charms under her breath.

"Here put them back on," she said. "I always had to go to balls with Aunt Cissy and Uncle Lucius, he is naturally a terrible dancer, she would always do this to his shoes without him knowing, to make him think he was good. Remember, right hand holding mine, held aloft, left hand on my waist and try not to look too panicky."

"Okay..." he said slowly. "I can remember that. Are you sure about this?"

"No," Lyra answered honestly as straightened up again. "Come on, the music's starting, best smile now."

The two of them swept into the room and onto the dance floor, true to his word, Harry remembered what to do and placed a hand on Lyra's waist and a hand up for her to hold. When the music started his feet did all the steps correctly in time to the music and he turned and dipped at all the right moments, before he noticed he had been dancing for long the teachers had joined them on the floor and the other students had followed suit.

"I don't know how to thank you Lyra," Harry said breathlessly as they left the floor some dances later. "That could have gone so terribly."

"You're welcome, though you don't deserve it, I only knew the charm because I always had to go to the balls and you somehow wheedled your way out of them," Lyra said.

"Well, you can see why I didn't want to go, it's frightening," he laughed as they got some punch and watched the band play. "What time does the proper band get here," he asked, referring to the formal dancing finishing and the popular wizarding band arriving the identity of whom Dumbledore had so far kept under his hat- hopefully not literally of course.

"No idea. Where is Dumbledore?" Lyra asked. "He's sloped off."

"Let's go look," Harry said, grasping her hand and pulling her toward the Entrance Hall.

"Are you suggesting we go and spy on our esteemed headmaster," Lyra gasped, smiling as they wound through the dancing couples to get to the door. Harry just laughed.

It seemed though, that finding Dumbledore would be no game at all, the fun of the chase was lost when he was stood in the middle of the Entrance Hall.

"It's very serious Professor," a greying woman said, who they recognized as Director Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement at the ministry. Harry and Lyra slipped behind one of the vast pillars.

"I understand the gravity Madam," Dumbledore sighed, rubbing a weary hand over his face. "All the wards will have to be changed this instant."

"It's wonder the castle hasn't been breached already Headmaster, what with the sighting in Hogsmeade," the Director said. Harry and Lyra exchanged wide eyed glances at the mention of Bellatrix, obviously something new had been discovered about her.

"It's thanks to my Head Girl," Dumbledore admitted. "She had the good sense to check for animagi presence. I had hoped it was just Skeeter nosing around again… Lestrange's form what is it?"

"A she wolf," the director replied. "Very dangerous, reflecting the witch within I suppose."

"Indeed," Dumbledore said. "Come, let us convene in my office. Unless you fancy a turnabout the dance floor?"

"This is no time for jokes Albus," Amelia Bones said sternly.

"Of course of course, we must go and update the wards," he agreed sombrely. Both of the esteemed wizards then proceeded with haste up the stairs, presumably to the gargoyle guarding the headmaster's office.

Harry and Lyra stood in stunned silence for a moment, Harry turned to break it but then caught Lyra's searching and worried expression.

"When the wolf comes to the door," she muttered. "Wolf… wolf…"

"Lyra," Harry said cautiously. "What's wrong?"

"Golden love or raven life," Lyra muttered again before rising a hand to her forehead. "How could I been so stupid? I thought it was about galleons!"

"What are you talking about Lyra?" Harry asked again, putting a hand on her back because she looked unsteady with the concentration.

"I thought it was about galleons!" Lyra exclaimed, curling her fingers into a fist. "It's not… it's hair!"

"What is going on?" he asked again, shaking her a little. "Who's got golden hair?"

"Aunt Cissy has golden hair!" Lyra said in a low voice, her eyes wide with fright. "I've got to go to Malfoy Manor."

"You can't go now," Harry exclaimed. "You're not allowed to leave the grounds at night."

"Watch me," Lyra said a steely glint in her eye.

"Lyra, I'm going with you, you can't go alone," he said bravely. "If something is the matter with Aunt Cissy I want to go too."

"You can't," Lyra said, shaking her head. "It's too dangerous. You're the reason He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is dead. It's too risky. I'm only chancing it on the unlikely event of her not killing me straight away because I look like I'm a Black, she may have qualms about killing her bloodline. Go and tell Draco where I have gone and if I'm not back here in a half hour, tell Dumbledore that Cissy is in grave danger and I've gone after her." Without listening to whether he said a word of agreement, she picked up her skirts and fled through the Entrance Hall at a sprint.


	7. Chapter 7

_**(A/N- Hello! In this chapter we go back to the night where Voldemort died (for good) and the night where everyone started telling lies. This is going back in time. I had a query on the dates and to clarify- the dates are there to signify the passing of time because I'm not writing a day to day account because that would be tedious for everyone. I hope this explains some things and outlines whether this is a Lyra/Harry or Lyra/Draco story, the latter will seem a bit gross after this chapter, let's be honest. )**_

**Chapter 7**

**30****th**** of October 1981**

_Narcissa Malfoy knew it was coming: the tealeaves, the stars and the crystal ball had been telling her for months that the Dark Lord's downfall was imminent, and that her family were in grave danger. _

_It was a dark and stormy Halloween night. Narcissa had been up in the highest wing of Malfoy manor, nursing two little bairns whilst her husband, Lucius and her sister Bellatrix were downstairs. She wasn't a Death Eater, Bellatrix was an anomaly when it came to females joining the Dark Lord's ranks. She was more than content therefore to miss the meeting that was happening downstairs. All the senior Death Eaters where downstairs discussing the very important mission that would be enacted tonight-the Dark Lord himself could well even be there. They had been to the manor for important meetings many times before, Narcissa was no stranger to retiring to the heights of the house, quieting the children and praying that they did not scream. Narcissa feared for the infants' and her own lives if they made a noise which disrupted the Dark Lords meeting. _

_That night she knew it was different, as she rocked Draco and Lyra to sleep the noise from the meeting downstairs filtered up through the house and she knew from its tone, as she could not hear the words that it was something big. _

_Lyra was her eldest sister's daughter. Bellatrix had fallen pregnant before her marriage to Rodolphus -she had been brought up in secrecy as much as possible- The Blacks and Malfoys had stood by their kin and helped raised the child, offering it everything an infant could ever wish for- despite the fact Bellatrix had always refused to divulge the father of her child to anyone, ever. _

_Even to her present husband, Rodolphus Lestrange._

_It had been a huge relief when infatuated Monsieur Lestrange had begged Bella's father for her hand, despite her being older than was the norm for pureblood marriages and already being a mother. Old Cygnus had been more than eager to offer his consent to their union as soon as possible. _

_As she heard the sound of her house being vacated by her husband's guests, and possibly the Dark Lord himself Narcissa grimaced and took one last look at the piles of parchment on the table, all her readings and predictions about this night. As quietly as possible she lifted one bundle of blankets and rested it on her hip, before summoning a house elf and passing the second bundled to it with some hushed instructions. _

_With a swift kiss to the blonde head of the child she was leaving behind she slipped through the door of the nursery and stole from the house as quietly as possible, so she could apparate out of the wards. _

**30****th**** of October 1981**

_It was a quiet Thursday night for Sirius Black as he lounged on the sofa of his home, reading a book about Quidditch and eating chocolate frogs-Halloween special edition no less. There was nothing about this night which presumed it would be one of the worst of his life, until there was a knock on his door. _

_Frowning as he wondered who could be calling upon him at such an hour, he got up and leisurely went to answer. His bemused face turned to one of shock when he opened the door to a beautiful blonde woman, in sweeping, expensive emerald robes who looked extremely out of place in his humble cottage. _

"_Cissy," he exclaimed in his surprise. _

"_Let me in Sirius," she said firmly, tightening her hold on the baby in her arms. "This is urgent." Despite his usually jovial nature he nodded sombrely and welcomed her into his living room, Sirius knew from her tone of voice that something was the matter. _

"_For what do I owe the honour of this impromptu visit from yourself and baby Draco," he said, inclining his head at the infant in her arms, unidentifiable due to the mass of blankets which surrounded it._

"_This is not Draco," she said quickly, her urgency evident in her expression. "Sit down, we haven't much time."_

"_What is the matter Cissy," Sirius demanded from his estranged cousin. _

"_The Dark Lord will fall tonight Sirius," she said bluntly, not allowing the glimmer of joy to linger in Sirius' stormy grey eyes for longer than a moment. "But James and Lily Potter will lose their lives." Sirius' look of triumph slid off his face. _

"_If this is some kind of sick joke Cissy-" he started angrily, clenching his fists. _

"_Sirius Orion Black, I will make an unbreakable vow if it is what it takes for you to believe me but I beseech you to save us the time. For the Dark Lord's reign to end, The Potters must die," she said in a surprisingly business-like tone. "I have seen it all, there is no doubt." _

"_I have to help them," Sirius said jumping to his feet in a panic. _

"_Sirius. Sit down!" Narcissa commanded in a demanding tone. _

"_If you try and interfere the blame will rest with you and you will go to Azkaban," she said. _

"_Better that than not try," Sirius said brusquely, making toward the door. _

"_And what will little Harry Potter do when his sole guardian is rotting in a jail cell?" Narcissa asked in a loud voice. Sirius stopped on his way to the door and turned on his heel slowly. _

"_What do you mean?" he asked. _

"_Tonight," Narcissa started to explain. "James and Lily will sacrifice their lives to protect their son, in trying to kill Harry the Dark Lord will fall. If you go and get involved it will have disastrous consequences. The child needs you Sirius." _

"_Why should I trust you? You're a Malfoy now," Sirius accused, eyes narrowed. _

"_I am and always will be a Black, Sirius," Narcissa said strongly, lifting her chin. "And Black's protect their own. The Dark Lord's demise means a safe world for my family, for my son." _

_Sirius nodded once and fell back into the armchair, resting his head in his hands. _

"_So all I can do is wait to hear the news of my best friends' deaths," he said, emotion making his voice waver uncontrollably. _

"_No, you must take Lyra," Narcissa said, stroking the sleeping babies hair. _

"_Trixie's daughter?" Sirius confirmed, looking up in confusion once more. _

"_Bellatrix is an unfit mother Sirius, you and I both know," Narcissa said ashamedly. "You must pretend Lyra Black is your own daughter."_

"_Trixie loves the kid, the only thing she does- besides You Know Who- she's not going to just let you give her to me," Sirius pointed out. _

"_Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan will get an Azkaban life sentence before dawn," the witch replied gravely. "Very few people know of Lyra's existence. She cannot grow up as the daughter of a psychopath Sirius; think about what it will do to her to know what her mother is. She would never be accepted into society. You must pretend to be her father."_

"_I cannot look after a child, my job…" Sirius reasoned. _

"_I know you are always on auror work, but you're also the Potter boy's godfather. I will look after her all the time if necessary once this is all over, the both of them at the manor whenever you are away with the auror department," Narcissa said. "Please Sirius, don't condemn my niece." _

"_You love her very much don't you?" Narcissa bit her lip and nodded surely. "She's just like a daughter to me." Sirius let out a long suffering sight and buried his head in his hands once more. _

"_I'll do it," he agreed. _

"_Thank you," she sighed in relief. "I will take care of Bella."_

"_Padfoot!" Came a shout from the fireplace. Narcissa gasped and ducked out of view as the face of Remus Lupin appeared, egg shaped and crackling in the fireplace. _

"_Moony," Sirius said, sliding onto his knees by the fireplace. _

"_You-Know-Who," Remus said breathlessly and desperately. "He's got Lily and James. They're dead Sirius." Sirius' face contorted into one of pain but Remus continued. "Dumbledore and the Order have gone to Godric's Hollow. The advanced aurors have sieged Malfoy Manor, you'll be getting a call for back up at any minute but we have to go get Harry, he's alive." _

"_I'll meet you there in two minutes Moony" Sirius said quickly, voice choked and tears swimming in his eyes. Remus gave one nod and disappeared from the hearth. _

"_Draco," Narcissa said frantically rising from her hiding place and quickly passing the still sleeping baby to Sirius. "He's at the manor. I have to go to him, he could be hurt." Sirius nodded his understanding, whilst looking with a concerned expression at the girl in his arms. _

"_Lyra Elladora Bellatrix Black," she rushed, placing a kiss on the baby's forehead and then on her cousin's cheek. "Be good to her, I will be back when this all blows over. I'll sort everything out no one will know about this switch. I must go to my son."_

**31****st**** of October 1981**

_Azkaban was not a place Narcissa ever wanted to visit, but with three of her relations currently incarcerated within its walls, she had very little choice. Besides, she had to see her sister. _

"_I'll give you some privacy with your sister Mrs Malfoy ma'am," the guard said bowing his head to her as they reached the bars of Bellatrix's cell. _

"_Cissy," the dark haired witch exclaimed delightedly as she rushed toward the bars. "I will be out of here by bonfire night, I'm sure I can sway the jury at the trial." Her speech was just as articulate and blasé as ever and her eyes still shone with intelligence and wit. Her face still beautiful and full of life. "Cissy… why do you look so pale… what on earth is the matter?" _

_Narcissa averted her blue eyes to the floor, not bearing to look her eldest sister in the eye. _

"_Bella," she started. "I'm so sorry." _

"_Cissy," Bella said, a slightly pleading tone to her voice, her pale fingers curling around the bars. "Tell me, what has happened." _

"_The Manor was sieged by aurors whilst you were being arrested," Narcissa said in a small voice. "Curses and explosions everywhere… I … I couldn't stop it." _

"_Is my daughter safe?" she whispered, eyes wide and fearful. "Is Lyra safe?" Narcissa swallowed the lump in her throat and lifted her head, locking eyes with her sister. _

"_Dead," she said simply. _

_Bellatrix froze, she stayed like that for many minutes. Narcissa was just about to call someone to look at her when she noticed how white her sisters knuckles were, she was squeezing the bars with every ounce of her strength. _

"_Bella," the words came tumbling from her lips in a sorrowful tone, but she could not finish. _

_It started deep in Bella's chest like a strangled sob, but soon escalated into a bloodcurdling shriek of anguish which pierced Narcissa's ears and reverberated on the bare stone walls. _

"_NO, NO!" Bellatrix screamed, her face red, eyes manic and hands tearing at her long, thick hair. "Not her, not her." She kept repeating the phrase over and over, each time pacing around the bare cell, ripping at her hair and uniform and hitting the rough wall until her knuckles bled. _

_Narcissa took a deep breath and pointed her wand at her sister. _

"_Stupefy," she breathed, watching her sister fall to the ground unconscious, where she couldn't further injure herself. Narcissa went and informed the guards that Bellatrix needed some sort of restraint after one last glance at her big sister. _

**5****th**** of November 1981**

_Prison officals would visit Narcissa in coming weeks, telling her about how her sister would spend all day sobbing and screaming and cursing. _

_Apparently she would scream for her daughter, which according to their records she did not have. They would ask Narcissa about it, and she would confirm that indeed, Bellatrix does not have a daughter and they would nod in understanding and tell her that her sister was going insane. But it didn't really matter, because everyone goes insane in Azkaban… in the end. _

_And after they left, Narcissa would take little Draco and visit Sirius and Lyra and she would hug her niece and be comforted by the fact that although her murderess-sister was suffering in Azkaban for now, her niece, so innocent and pure could grow up happy, with a loving father._

_Narcissa Malfoy cried after her sister's trial, she had sat in the chair with an insane glint her eye ranting about how all she did, she did in the Dark Lord's service. When she believed her daughter to be alive, she had said she would go free, but now she had nothing left to live for she wasn't even trying to walk as free woman again. It was like she wanted to rot in Azkaban. _

**10th of August 1985**

"_This is my mother," Narcissa said, pointing to an old photograph of a stern looking woman in expensive pearls. Three small children each of five years old were gathered around her. _

_Her own son, Draco, with his smooth platinum blonde hair and grey eyes sat next to her, looking at the old leather bound book. On her other side sat a messy haired young boy named Harry, his scar hidden under his fringe and his glasses sliding down the end of his nose. Sat comfortably in her lap was a small girl, her long dark curls were wild and framed her pale face and heavy-lidded eyes. She was the spitting image of her real mother- who had been locked up in Azkaban prison for years. _

_Narcissa turned the page of the family photo album. _

"_That lady looks like Lyra," Draco said pointing a finger at Bellatrix who was stood next to Narcissa on her wedding day. _

"_Yes," Narcissa said slowly. "You remember Andromeda don't you? Saw her last month." Andromeda and Narcissa had been on good terms in the past few years and Narcissa insisted that both Harry and Lyra called her Aunty. _

"_I remember Aunty Andy," Lyra piped up. "She gave me these shoes," she said, flicking her ankles so that the sparkles on her gift flashed in the light streaming in from the arched window. _

"_Cousin Dora tickled me and gave me chocolate milk," Harry said, with a wide smile as though he was extremely proud of himself. _

"_Yes," Narcissa said, closing the book with a soft thud. "How about I have the elves set up some brooms for you, you can all practice your flying." _

_It was extremely obvious that she was just trying to change the subject, but to three five year olds with a love of flying this was gone unnoticed. _

"_But Mama," Draco whined. "You won't let us play on proper brooms." _

"_That's because you're not big enough to play with full sized ones yet Draco," Narcissa scolded, rolling her eyes, though inside her heart was pounding that she had been so careless as to forget that a single photograph of Bellatrix was still inside the manor where the children could find it. _


	8. Chapter 8

**(A/N I'll be honest; I'm not happy with chapter at all, but I've done far to many drafts to do another ten thousand. Feedback is appreciated. Thanks.) **

Lyra had apparated to Malfoy Manor as soon as she had reached the ward line around the castle. From her sprint down from the Entrance Hall her cheeks were flushed, her eyes shining and her hair had come free of its pins and now her wild curls were flowing behind her. She slipped through the wards of the manor, cringing visibly when she got through. The wards around the Manor worked on the basis that family would never hurt you and blood relations were always allowed through. Silently Lyra crept through the shrubbery surrounding the house, the rooms were illuminated by lanterns but she could not see Aunt Cissy, she could guess that Uncle Lucius was still on business and that she was home alone… unless Aunt Andy had come to visit, and if her hunch was correct the 'blood traitor' would already be dead.

Her heart rose in her throat as she heard a noise, she couldn't pinpoint its location but it sounded like laughter, insane cackling. That wasn't Aunt Cissy. Slowly, praying that the door didn't creak she slipped through a heavy oak side door, she silently took of her shoes, her heels would clack against the tiles of the hallway and crept along the corridor, pressing her ear to every door.

"You really think that I would not come to visit my dearest little sister?" she heard through the door. The voice was high and laughing, yet threatening. "Tell me Cissy, are you scared of your big sister. A dagger and a wand can do wonders for one's persuasion techniques don't you think."

She had a knife and a wand. That was enough for Lyra to know that this was not a social visit. She took a step back from the door and removed her wand from the holster on her thigh.

A sudden stroke of brilliance told her not to go through the door, she would expect that if she had heard an intruder. Silently she ran along the corridor and into the next room, in these old houses they all had fireplaces.

"The drawing room," she whispered, before stepping into the flames. She didn't need Floo Powder for internal connections and that was to her advantage, the fire wouldn't turn different colours before she had appeared, warning Lestrange of her presence.

As soon as she felt her feet hit the heath, her wand was in motion.

"Expelliamus!" she shouted and it with no small satisfaction that she saw a wand come flying toward her. Her triumph was short lived though; the woman stood before her still held a dagger in a limp arm. Lyra was stuck by the difference she saw between Bellatrix Lestange now and in the photograph. Her hair was no longer a tangled, matted mess her curls were less shiny, but almost the same as her own. Her heavy lidded eyes, which she was so sure she would see filled with insanity and malice were in fact wide with surprise. She was not wearing prison uniform, instead a corseted and ripped black dress. Lyra would go so far as to say, for a woman who spent one and a half decades in Azkaban and had been on the run for months, she looked quite good. The vestige of her once stunning looks still present in her face.

Lyra could feel herself staring at the witch for too long and then shifted her eyes to her Aunt Cissy. She had been bound to the chair with thick black ropes over her expensive robes, a long, angry red wound travelled the length of her high cheekbones. Her eyes were lidded and she looked as though she was exhausted.

"Aunt Cissy!" Lyra cried as she ran across the room and slid onto her knees next to her, her arm still trained on Lestrange.

"Run Lyra," she urged with all the strength she had left. "You have to run!"

"I'm not leaving you," Lyra said through gritted teeth.

"Your name…" Bellatrix said, recognition flooding her eyes. "Lyra…"

"It's not her Bella," Narcissa sobbed, hot wet tears making tracks down her pale cheeks, shaking her head. "Leave her be, it's not her."

"Shut it Cissy," she spat back to her sister. "What is your name girl?"

"Lyra Elladora Bellatrix Black," she replied, rising from the floor to fully face the woman before her.

"How old are you?" she asked in barely more than a whisper. "When is your birthday?"

"Eighteen… the last of September," she replied, she watched as the facial expression of Lestrange changed, her eyes searched her face and her fists clenched around the dagger.

"YOU TOLD ME SHE WAS DEAD!" she screamed, lunging for her sister in her rage.

"Impedimenta!" Lyra shouted, the terror in her magical core causing the spell to be extremely powerful and Bellatrix to be knocked back and slammed with great force into the wall behind her before sliding down into a crumpled mess on the floor. "Incarcerous."

"What does she want Aunt Cissy," Lyra asked, rushing over to pull her free of the ropes.

"Before you decide who you are untying Lyra, don't you think you should ask dear Cissy what she has been hiding from you all this time, how she has lied to you your entire life!"

"What is she talking about Aunt Cissy?" Lyra asked, not moving from her side.

"I'm so sorry Lyra," the blonde sobbed, her blue eyes locking with the younger's deep brown ones. "I only did what was best for you."

"Stop giving her the bullshit and tell her!" Bellatrix shrieked.

"Sirius Black was not your father Lyra," Cissy whispered, hanging her head in shame. "You're not my second cousin… you're my niece." Lyra's jaw dropped and she took a step back, training wands on both of the witches.

"That's, that's why you're here?" she asked Bellatrix.

"I tried to find you at school first," she admitted, a feral grin spreading across her face. "But then Dumbledore and his two little minions came out and I thought there was no chance I would see you, to see for my own eyes that you were still alive. They knew I had been sighted and had come to check the wards at the gates. I thought my entire trip to Scotland had been wasted, but then you come running down, in your dressing gown no less, all chummy with the Potter boy and I was contented to watch you from the darkness. I knew you were my daughter; there was no doubt, when you stood up to that old hag McGonagall and cast the charm showing my presence I was inconvenienced for sure, but so proud."

"Why, how did you escape from prison?" Lyra asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"I saw the newspaper, where it said you had been given the title of Lady, I thought it must be you, but I wasn't sure, but that hope was enough for me to be able to change into my wolf form for the first time in fifteen years and sneak past the dementors and swim to the mainland," she explained.

"You're… you're my mother…" Lyra stammered.

"So how about you untie me," Bellatrix suggested, grinning manically. "Then we can deal with my scum of a sister, for lying to us both for all these years. She's selfish, wanted you all to herself. Let's make her pay." Lyra stayed silent, just staring at the raven haired witch.

"Why should I?" she eventually asked.

"She lied to you Lyra, she took you from me, your own mother," Bellatrix said. "She told you lies about your heritage, let you believe you were an orphan. She was horrible to you, telling you those things. Sentenced your mummy to prison herself she did."

"No," Lyra said, shaking her head, her own eyes started to fill with tears. "Aunty Cissy always looked after me, she loved me. She said I was the daughter she never had. She let me live here with her, I had everything I wanted… I was happy not knowing. I was happy here."

"Happier than you would have been with your own mother?" Bellatrix asked, jutting out her bottom lip. Lyra could see that she was playing a game with her, trying to get her to set her free so she could enact her revenge on her sister. "Together we can do so much, we can kill the Potter boy, find the Dark Lord, we could rule Lyra… we could be the elite."

"You're not fit to be a mother," Lyra choked out. "If you were you wouldn't have got yourself chucked in Azkaban. Narcissa would never do that to me, she has always done whatever it took to keep me, Draco and Harry safe. I don't want your ideals, I don't want to kill my friend in order to go on a wild goose chase for dead man. And even if that did work out, if all of your crazy schemes actually worked I would not put myself and my family in danger to take orders. Aunt Druella always said, I am a Black and _Blacks do not take orders._" Bellatrix let out a laugh.

"You do not know the Dark Lord Lyra, it is an honour to serve him. You have let Cissy poison your mind, listen to your old mum," she said, her eyes shining, voice persuasive but manic.

"You are my mother," she defiantly, swallowing the lump in her throat. "But you are not my _mum. _Mum's look after their children, they do not do things that get them life sentences. You are my mother in blood but that is where the relationship between us ends."

"Oh," she mocked. "And I suppose you see Cissy as more of a 'mum' do you? For the first year of your life I loved you, loved you more than anything in the world and then she told me you were dead and you don't know what's it's like to know your only child has been killed. You don't know the pain. Think of what the past years have done to me Lyra. Look at me. Grief has done this to me. I used to be beautiful, men used to look at me and their eyes would bug out, their jaws would drop. Even when I had a child my attractiveness didn't fade. I was still coveted by lords and beggars alike and you were such a charming baby, none of them minded you not being theirs because you were so like me. You still are. Have you seen pictures of me younger, my little Lyra? Was it like looking in a mirror? Can you see what she did to me? She locked me up in Azkaban. She stole my daughter from me, she stole my looks, my memories of happiness. She took everything from me by taking you away. She let me rot in cell. I have always loved you, cherished what I thought was your memory. You don't know how I have missed you darling, how many nights I screamed for any god who was listening to reunite us, whatever it took. I loved you more than life itself and if you let me, I can again."

"If you loved me you would have not put him first," she said in a choked voice. Her eyes rimmed with unshed tears as she shook her head. "You made the choice between your daughter and the Dark Lord the moment I was born and you deserve to live with that for the rest of your pitiful existence because you chose wrong. The Dark Lord is dead and he is never coming back but I am alive and I can do so many things, without you. I don't need you and I certainly don't want you. But I forgive you for making that choice, because I was a whole lot happier and healthier with Aunt Cissy than I could ever have been in your delusional care. There is just one thing I want to know now; who is my father?"

Bellatrix's expression changed as Lyra spoke. It went from shock, to an expression which unless Lyra was mistaken might well have been hurt. To a look of feral satisfaction.

"I will tell you everything about yourself, everything that she has kept from you. I will tell you who your father is, all about your heritage on one condition. One little condition and you can know everything about yourself; you will no longer be a mystery. Your identity will be secure. You let me kill my traitorous sisters," Bellatrix bargained. "I am the only person who knows who he is."

"Two death sentences is the only way I can get you to tell me everything?" Lyra asked shakily.

"Who will mind at all once Cissy and Andy are dead and buried?" she cackled, sensing she had won.

"Stupefy!" Lyra screamed, jabbing her wand at Bellatrix with a lot more force than was actually necessary. The elder witch's head slamming back into the wall as she passed out. Lyra did not take notice of the trickling of blood that started to seep through her hair or when it became more of a torrent.

"Aunty Cissy," she cried, running back to her and pulling off the ropes. As soon as she was free Narcissa sunk to the floor enveloping Lyra in a hug and rocking her back and forward, tears streaming down both their faces.

"For a moment…" Narcissa whispered in her ear. "I thought you were going to listen to her."

"So did I… for just a moment… but then I realized, no one can hurt you," Lyra choked. "I don't want what she offered me… I just want an O in Herbology." Narcissa laughed through her tears and clung to her Lyra tighter.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you the truth about your mother Lyra," she whispered, stroking her long hair.

"Thank you for not telling me," she replied.

"I always prayed you wouldn't end up like your mother," Narcissa admitted. "And today you showed me that you're not."

Lyra didn't have time to reply before the doors burst open and Dumbledore stepped in, wand drawn, Director Bones, Harry and Draco close behind him.

Lyra wasn't listening to him as he directed the boys to do things and Director Bones saying that the aurors would be there momentarily, suddenly she was feeling quite exhausted, her eyes slipping in and out of focus. She remembered Draco taking Narcissa to St. Mungos to check that the dagger she was cut with was not cursed or poisoned and Harry picking her up and taking her back through the flames to Hogwarts.


	9. Chapter 9

When Lyra awoke it was quiet except for breathing, one set she was sure was own, but there must be more than one person around her. Her eyes fluttered open only to be quickly screwed up again, it was too bright -dazzling white light. For a moment she wondered whether she was dead. But then laughed at herself for her stupidity, tentatively she opened her eyes again, just the hospital wing… maybe the lighting in here was deliberate, to scare patients. Slowly she lifted her head from the pillow, it was pounding uncomfortably and felt decidedly too heavy for her neck.

Two mops of dishevelled hair lay next to her, one a shining blonde and the other a jet black. Draco and Harry seemed to have heard her movement because they both looked up, bleary eyed like they had been there all night.

"You're awake," Harry said, a grin spreading across his face.

"Why was I asleep?" she asked foggily.

"You passed out for about ten minutes but when you got back Pomfrey gave you a dreamless sleep potion right away," Draco explained, his voice unsure. As if he was treading on eggshells. "It's Sunday afternoon."

"How is Aunt Cissy?" Lyra asked, the first concern to spring to her mind.

"She is well, they discharged her from St Mungos this morning," he said, the relief evident in his features.

"Good," Lyra breathed.

"Well…" Harry said tactfully, knowing that Draco and Lyra had things to discuss. "I best be going, I just wanted to check you were alright. I'll go let everyone know you're okay now."

"Thank you for everything yesterday Harry," she replied in a begrudgingly grateful tone. He smiled in relief at the presence of her usual mannerism and squeezed her hand briefly.

"Next time I'm coming with you," he promised. "Feel better."

When the Hospital Wing door swung shut behind him, Lyra turned to Draco once more, shifting herself up a bit so she was sat upright.

"What happened to Bellatrix?" she asked, terrified of the answer. Draco sighed and took her hand in his reassuringly.

"It wasn't your fault Lyra… when she hit the wall, she started to bleed, quite lot. The aurors took her to St Mungos but the healers refused to treat her," Draco said gravely.

"They refused?" Lyra said in shock. Draco nodded sombrely.

"They have treated so many of her victims, they refused, it's totally illegal and if it was anyone else there would be an enquiry, but they would just be fixing her up to go to the kiss, so…" he trailed off, not looking Lyra in the eye. "She died this morning."

Lyra just nodded numbly, a strange uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't sad but nor was she relieved; the emotion that slowly flooded through her body was not one of passion or clarity, just an irresolute inkling of how she could feel, had she known her mother or been on an emotional disposition.

"Are you upset Lyra?" he asked. She shook her head, slowly but surely.

"I lost my mother before I was even born," she said with a sigh. "As soon as she took on the Dark Mark I lost her, she was never fit to be a mother anyway. She was never a mother to me."

"I'm sorry you've had to go through all that this week," he said sympathetically.

"Does everyone know… that I'm her daughter?" Lyra asked, cringing at the thought.

"Yes, you're a hero," he replied, noticing the way her jaw clenched at his words.

"What?"

"Everyone knows, it was in the prophet this morning, you're the one who finally took down Bellatrix Lestrange. Mother told everyone the truth, Skeeter wrote exactly the real story for once- how mother had hidden you when Bellatrix went to Azkaban and brought you up under the pretence of being Sirius' daughter and then what happened last night," Draco explained.

"Couldn't she get in serious trouble for that?" Lyra asked awestruck at what Aunt Cissy had done.

"She could have done," he admitted. "But she didn't. People's emotions get the better of them and they admitted that they would have wanted to do the same thing. She was putting you out of danger by doing what she did. She hasn't been charged at all."

"Good," she said. "I'm glad she's okay."

"Me too," Draco said. "I don't know what would have happened to her if you hadn't got to her, thank you for saving my mother."

"She saved me first," she sighed. "Besides… she's actually my aunt, what else could I have done?" Draco grinned despite himself.

"We're actually first cousins… not third," he said, shaking his head happily. "I like you a lot more than Tonks." Lyra laughed.

"Yeah, so how about we keep the blood pure and go get married?" she said sarcastically. Draco let out a laugh and ruffled her hair.

"I'm sorry love, I know you've always held a torch for me, but a first cousin is too close for my liking," he teased.

When Professor Dumbledore opened the doors of the hospital wing he was expecting to find a sombre, upset and exhausted head girl, instead he found her and Mr Malfoy clutching their sides and laughing as though they had just had an extremely potent cheering charm fired at them.

How strange.

The headmaster cleared his throat patiently and both teenagers jumped at the intrusion. Both their faces melted back into sombre expression as their bubble was burst and they came crashing back to reality.

"Mr Malfoy may I have a word with your cousin in private?" he asked, tone telling him that he would not take no for an answer.

"Of course Professor," he said, giving Lyra a supportive smile as he rose and left. Though it looked like more of a grimace to her.

"How are you feeling Miss Black?" he asked as the door slammed closed behind the blonde and he took up the seat next to that Draco has previously occupied. Lyra looked at him blankly.

"I effectively murdered my mother yesterday, who I recently found out to be alive and a convicted psychopath, how do you think I feel?" she asked, but he voice lacked all of its usual bite. It was resigned, weary in fact. Dumbledore too sighed exhaustedly.

"I don't know whether to offer my condolences or congratulations Lyra my dear," he admitted. "Both seem grossly insensitive."

"Then I shall forgive you for offering me neither," she replied softly, not removing her gaze from the hospital sheets.

"Everybody knows about me now, they know I'm the daughter of a maniac," she stated. "Have you come to take away my badges?"

"Actually removing your status as head girl was the last thing on my mind," Dumbledore said warmly. "First and foremost I came to check you were coping and second, well it has been agreed by the governors and I, that a shield for special services to the school shall be placed in the trophy room."

Lyra's head snapped up to meet Dumbledore's gaze.

"But I'm the child of a murderer, I am a murderer," she said hollowly.

"Parties are in full swing throughout the castle and the country Lyra, all in your honour. Nobody blames you for you parentage, nobody blames you for injuring her. It is not your fault she died, in fact you probably did her a favour, it is probably a better fate than the Dementor's Kiss," he explained levelly. "You are seen as the hero in the tragedy which seems to be your family."

"I'm not a hero and I don't want to be seen as one," she argued. "I don't want anyone to know about any of this!" Dumbledore sighed again and shook his head sympathetically.

"Unfortunately you Aunt made that decision," he said diplomatically. "She obviously thought it was for the best."

"It was nice of her to consult me," Lyra muttered darkly, pulling her covers up around her shoulders. "When can I leave the hospital wing?"

"Madam Pomfey has requested you be kept on bed rest for the next week at least," Dumbledore said.

"I do not think so," Lyra replied, swinging her legs out of bed and plucking her wand out from under her pillow. "I will not stay in this hospital wing. No."

"Miss Black no student has ever decided to just bypass Poppy's advice," he tried to tell her.

She rounded on him like a tiger, her Pomfrey-issued striped nightgown not making her blush in front of the headmaster.

"I'm sorry professor have you ever had any other patient murder their mother before?" she asked pointedly.

"Well no," Dumbledore admitted. Lyra interrupted him again.

"So you don't know how to handle it. I shall stay in my quarters for the next week if she so wishes it but I refuse to stay in this sterile environment. There is nothing wrong me," she stated coldly daring her headmaster to contradict her.

"Maybe not with you physically Miss Black but you need time to heal mentally and emotionally," he said softly.

"Exactly," she said with a winning smile. "I'm so glad you agree with me Headmaster. I would go mad staying a week in here, but in my room I have books to read things to do, I can go flying and do things which make me happy. Isn't happiness the road to recovery?" she didn't stop for an answer- throwing her cloak over her shoulders. "Thank you for your time Professor, I am going to go and lie down and have a nap I think. If I take a while to answer the door at any point I am probably just sleeping. I'd really appreciate it if you could tell Madam Pomfrey of our agreement?"

Dumbledore stared at her, the old wizard was not usually one to be startled but by the time he found the word to say that actually, he could not tell the matron because she would probably start throwing hexes at him, Lyra was halfway out the door.

He sighed to himself again, shaking his head as he conceded and allowed her to go. He should have known she was far too headstrong to agree to being cooped up in here for a week. He just worried that she was not showing enough emotion, remorse even grief at the events which had occurred. He sat in the silence of the Hospital Wing for a few moments more, pondering the effects this weekend would have on the already questionable mental stability of Lyra Black.

Dumbledore worried for her, she showed no emotion in their meeting, she was rational, but too insistent. All of his students, past and present had respected his authority and never tried to manipulate that, not one. They all at least had pretended to respect his power, and never forcefully took it into their own hands. No… Lyra Black was troubling the headmaster greatly.

It seems however that his ill faith in her emotions was unfounded, she left the room and in true Lyra fashion she walked slowly and deliberately to her dormitory, never rushing a footstep. Luckily the corridors were deserted this early on a Sunday morning, even though she doubted that many students were actually asleep like usual, probably all up gossiping in their common rooms.

As soon as the portrait hole swung shut behind her and she was finally alone in the head girl common room, her mask cracked and tears started to run down her pale cheeks. Truth be told, she wasn't entirely sure why she was crying.

Everything about the past few days came pouring silently from her eyes; she did not allow herself a sob. Finally she rushed, up to her bedroom and through the portrait to the manor. As soon as she stepped into her study she noticed two elves, Helf and Jefe stood with their heads bowed, awaiting her arrival.

For a moment the trio stood in silence as Lyra looked at them before brandishing her wand and pointing it the female elf. With a silent jab of her wand a red light soared toward the servants chest, causing her to gasp in surprise.

"You had a bit of lint on your uniform," Lyra mumbled weakly. "I hate lint."

"Helf's apologies ma'am, thank you for your assistance," Helf said, bowing low. Jefe stepped forward, raising his gaze to meet her own.

"The elves are wishing to tell you how happy they are you are back my lady, most worried about you they were," he said gently. Lyra sniffed thickly and nodded her head once as a way of showing she understood and in her own way was grateful.

"Mistress, you are shaking," Helf said tactfully. "Helf shall find you some nice warm nightgowns and put you to bed at once, with nice warm covers. Freir will send up some hot chocolate and some oat biscuits you like… and some kiwi fruits, just how you like them. Let Helf and Jefe take care of you miss." Lyra's bottom lip trembled minutely but she let herself be led by the hand to her bedroom. Helf sifted through the closets to find her the softest , cotton long sleeve nightdress Lyra had ever worn and a thick gown to go over it. Before she was at on the end of the vast bed and sat completely still whilst Helf set to work, untangling her curls and retrieving the last of the pins from the bottom of the mess which was once her hairstyle to the ball, before taking off the jewellery which strangely no one had thought to remove beforehand and washing her face and hands with a sweet smelling soap, warm water and a rough flannel.

With a tingling face Lyra was helped into bed, propped up on thick feather pillows and presented with a mug the size of a cauldron, full of steaming hot chocolate. Although the elves got nothing more than a nod as thanks for their efforts they all stayed by Lyra's side as she gently sipped her drink and tears trailed tracks down her scrubbed face of their own accord.

"Tell me straight away if anyone tries to get into my Hogwarts quarters," she instructed as the just empty tankard disappeared from her grasp and she sunk slowly down onto her side, resting her head against the soft fabric.

"Please," she added as her eyes fluttered closed.

Many hours later she woke once more, flustered and tangled in her sheets. She had been tossing and turning due to her restless, disturbed sleep. Helf gently soothed her, helped her change into a fresh nightgown and administered her a dreamless sleep potion, so that she would sleep through until the morning, for which Lyra would be very grateful.


End file.
